


Dead Body

by redandwhiteroses



Series: Rocks and Water [1]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Angst, Class Differences, Daddy Kink, Dark fic, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attacks, Ransom Drysdale is the biggest piece of shit, Reader Insert, Smut, Stalking, Texas as a plot device, This is a dark and angsty fic and there is no happy ending, art as therapy, seriously Ransom is awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandwhiteroses/pseuds/redandwhiteroses
Summary: No one was more glad than you when Ransom Drysdale was sent to prison. The bastard deserved to rot for the rest of his life, as far as you were concerned. You hated him with a burning passion. Unfortunately, Ransom didn't seem to feel the same way.--------------------------------------------"What do you want?" You try to keep your voice even and steady. The stranger is only lit by the headlights of his car, but you know who it is. No one else would show up to your property in the middle of the night like this."I just want to talk." Ransom's voice washes over you, and you have to fight the sudden urge to dry heave."Then talk. Before I call the police.""I think you and I got off on the wrong foot all those years ago." He steps forward, the gravel crunch underneath his feet. "I was an ass, and I had some time to think about why.""Because you're a spoiled rich bitch?""Because I want to marry you."
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Series: Rocks and Water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713934
Comments: 29
Kudos: 232





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but after seeing Knives Out, I just got the sense that killing someone wasn't the first Terrible thing that Ransom has done. So I'm offering you this dark fic.

The phone in your studio rings. You look up from your sketches and frown. Someone had gotten you the old landline as a joke, something about you being old-fashioned. You had looked at it and known. It fits perfectly within your sanctuary along with your old-timey looking animation posters and old book covers. Stepping into that room almost felt like stepping back into a strange combination of the 20s and 50s with a good helping of modern decor. The phone rings again, so you place the inking pen carefully to the side. The partially done drawing of Harlan stares back at you, making you smile softly. A tribute to your former mentor. The anniversary of his death was soon.To the side, you had a nearly completed one of Marta and Harlan. You hadn’t been able to spend much time with her, but she had made you feel comfortable. You wanted her to know, despite what everyone else seemed to say, she still had a friend.

Once more, the phone rings. You huff and go over to it, picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Ah, good. I was hoping you would pick up.” A deep southern drawl greets your ears. 

“Investigator Blanc. What can I do for you?” You look at your ink-stained hands and frown. 

“Please, call me Benoit. I thought we were over this.”

“Alright, Benoit. What can I do for you?”

The man on the other end sighs. “Have you been following the news?”

“Which part? I hear the stock market is doing terrib-”

“Ransom’s trial.” The name makes you stop, eyes going wide. Your throat is suddenly dry.

“You know I’m not.” Your voice is clipped and curt. 

“I understand that. I wouldn’t either after what he put you through.” You open your mouth, but he stops you. “Yes, I know, which you never said anything about to me. Christ, these people. Linda is even more of a piece of work than I initially thought.” You can’t help a snort at that.

“And you’re not the one she strong-armed into signing an NDA.” You could say that, the investigator had found the legal record. That’s what led him to talk to you in the first place. The private investigator wanted to make sure that Ransom was locked away for a long while, and he knew that he would have to throw an awful lot at the rich bitch to make sure it stuck. He chuckles in response, although it’s not as mirthful as you would like. 

“Well, he was able to get an appeal with a favorable judge.” Those words make you stiffen, fingers curling tighter around the receiver. 

“How long until he’s out? Until he’s free?” You try to keep your voice even.

“He’ll be out within the month. A week at the earliest, although I’m hoping we can delay it.” He sounds so sad. “Has the family reached out to you?”

“Linda did. She came by my official office to ‘talk’ with me.” You hope he can hear the quotes you put around that particular word. “I told her that the movie had nothing to do with her son.” A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “I may have also told her if she saw any resemblance to what I can’t talk about and the subject of my movie, that may be a guilty conscious.”

Blanc laughs, which makes your smirk turn into a smile. “I would have loved to see her face.”

“She looked guilty. She might have been constipated, though. It’s hard to tell with her.” 

“I’m sure.” He drawls. “I’m assuming you were smart enough to make it so your address isn’t a matter of public record?”

“You know I did.” You huff. “I know people are good at putting things together, and I don’t want to deal with apologists for that vile human knocking on my door.”

“Good. Good. I know you have protection.”

“Yes. I moved out to Texas for a reason.”

“I thought as much.” You can hear Benoit move about the room he’s in.

“Why’d you call?” You decide to confront the elephant in the room. “Did he threaten me?”

“No. Far worse, I’m afraid.” He lets out a sad and frustrated sigh. “He told the judge that he wished to make amends to people he’s hurt, although I doubt the sincerity of his words. He didn’t mention you by name, but it was easy enough to figure out he intended to pay you a visit.”

Your knees want to buckle. You give in to their demands and slowly lower yourself to the floor, trying to fight off a wave of tears. “Do you think he’s serious...?”

“I have no idea.” Even though you’re fighting off a mounting wave of panic, you find an odd gratefulness that he’s being frank with you. “I wouldn’t put it past him if he thinks it’ll make you suffer.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“I know this is not ideal.” Blanc’s voice softens somewhat. “I can let you know when he’s out in case you wish to take a vacation. France is supposed to be beautiful right about now.”

You can’t lie; the idea of going away to another country sounds appealing. You could stay there for several months and wait for it to all blow over, maybe even find some new inspiration. Your thoughts circle back to your parents, though. You could run, but your parents can’t. Despite making it, your parents still wanted you to save your newfound wealth for yourself. They’d be an all too easy target for someone like Ransom.

“I- I can’t.” You manage. “God, I want to, I really do, but I just- they’ll stop at nothing. You know how people like them are. I don’t want to put my family and friends in danger like that. Besides,” you try to stop shaking and put more conviction in your words. “I’m tired of running.”

The private investigator sighs. “Unfortunately, I had the same thoughts. I know it will be painful, but it will be less painful in the long run. I wish I could help you with this.”

“Just be ready if I call.” You try to steady your breathing. “I may need someone like you on my side.”

“Of course. Good night.”

“Good night, Benoit.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_”Ransom!” You hiss, trying to push the man away. “I told you to leave me alone already.”_

_The brat merely laughs in response. “I’m just trying to help.” He backs away, holding his hands in the air. “I can be generous.”_

_”I don’t want your help or your generosity.” You snarl. “I made it this far on my own, I can go further.”_

_”Yeah, but a bicycle isn’t as fast as a Benz. If you get what I’m saying.” He’s at least backed up some._

_”Yeah, well. I don’t trust the Benz dealer to not screw me over.” You don’t dare turn your back on Ransom. Your hands curl into fists, and you have to actively remind yourself to uncurl them._

_”Come on.” He tries to cajole, using a tone that you’re sure has worked on many women before. “I’m the one taking a risk here.”_

_”Well, take that risk, and shove it up your ass. I don’t want your help.”_   
_His grin falls instantly. “You’re such a frigid bitch, you know that?”_

_You know he chose those words in order to provoke you more. You wouldn’t put it past him to try and get you into a fight. He could leverage a fight, make him indebted to you. You push aside the lovely mental images of grabbing him by his perfect hair and smashing his head against the floor until nothing remained of his head. “I don’t give a shit what you think I am.”_

_His eyes glitter. “There she is. That uneducated riff-raff. I knew it was there. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”_

_Your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You don’t realize it, but your upper lip has curled upwards, making you look like some sort of wild animal._

_”You know that’s why Duke let you in, right? They needed their quota of backwoods hicks filled. You just got lucky.”_

_”Listen here you self-righteous, pompous, arrogant, cu-”_

_A call of your name and Ransom’s makes you stop. Harlan has just come around the corner. You force yourself to look as if you weren’t about to tear Ransom apart, although you suspect Harlan doesn’t buy it._

_”There you are.” Harlan makes his way towards you. “I found an old piece of artwork from one of my early novels, but it’s terribly damaged.”_

_”I can fix it.” You offer before Ransom can say anything. Harlan smiles at you._

_”I thought you might say that.” Harlan indicates for you to follow him, which you gladly do. Behind you, you can hear Ransom headed off somewhere._

_”Don’t let the little shit get to you.” Harlan looks at you. “I suspect he genuinely feels threatened by you.”_

_You snort at that. “I doubt that. But thank you.”_

_”For what?” You go to Harlan’s side in case he wants to lean on you while going down the rickety staircase._

_”For thinking he’s threatened by me. And for intervening in that... disagreement.”_

_”My dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What disagreement?” The glitter in Harlan’s eyes tells you he knows exactly what you’re referencing._

_”The one my stomach was having with me.” It’s the first thing you come up with. “It’s tell me it’s hungry, but I swear, I just ate an hour ago.”_

_Harlan laughs at that, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. “I do actually have a painting that needs to be repaired. Another thing for you to add to your list of internship duties.”_

_”I appreciate you thinking of me.”_  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as the call ends, you let go. You start crying and shaking, and you slide even further down until you’re laying on the ground. It feels like you can’t breathe, and the snot forming isn’t helping either. You hear noises upstairs and curse. You go sit up, but you can’t do it. Claire clatters down the stairs and is at your side in an instant. She’s seen enough of your panic attacks, and had enough of her own, to know what to do. She holds you through it, waiting until you’re calm enough to speak.

“What happened?”

“Inspector Blanc called.” Your voice sounds ragged. “It’s...”

“Shit.” The epithet makes you smile. “Don’t tell me.”

“He thinks that yellow-breasted douche might show up.” The use of the unpleasant nickname makes her chuckle. 

“Does he know for sure?”

“No, but it’s highly li-” She sshhhs you.

“We don’t know for certain. Save the panicking for if he does show up.” She stands up and offers you her hand. “Now come on. I’m sure there’s some bad movie on SyFy.” You take her hand hesitantly, letting her haul you to your feet.

“If there’s not a fun one, maybe we can watch Trailer Park Shark?”

“If it’ll get it out of your system.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing on SyFy was appealing, so the two of you ended up watching Trailer Park Shark. It’s bad, but it’s bad enough to make the both of you laugh. The two of you have a brief fight after the movie, namely about what you want to eat for dinner. Eventually, the two of you agree on a pizza. By the end of the night, you feel better. It helps that when you go to bed, Claire follows you and pulls you close as you both drift to sleep. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, your head pounding and your throat dry. No doubt it’s a by-product of your crying. Silently, so as not to wake Claire, you slide out of bed and pad downstairs. You grab the bottle of Advil and a glass of water. You pop off the cap of the Advil, pouring several into your hand. You swallow them with the water and are about to head back upstairs when your phone lights up. You frown and pick it up. You’ve got a text from an unknown number.

_It’s looking like I’ll be out in less than a week. Can’t wait to catch up. We’ve got a lot to talk about. -R_


	2. Past Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, what warnings don't apply to this chapter?
> 
> Stalking, emotional abuse, references/allusions to rape, and manipulation

The next week is hell for you, putting it mildly. You make your way back to Claire and shake her until she’s awake. Wordlessly, you hand her your phone, and she goes pale as well. 

Neither of you could sleep.

The rising sun sees the two of you sitting at the kitchen table in your shared house. A pot of coffee sits in the middle. It’s almost empty. You’re nursing a new mug, one filled with chamomile. 

“Thank you.” You mutter. “This is helping.” Claire reaches a hand across the table, and you take it, squeezing gently.

“I told you too much coffee would make it worse.” She admonishes, although her voice remains soft. She rubs a circle on the back of your hand with her thumb. The two of you stay like that for a moment; you with a mug in one hand and holding Claire’s hand with the other. 

“Who do I call first.” Your voice almost sounds foreign to your ears. You’re grateful that Claire knows people on the force in this part of Texas. She came from a line of police and military officers, so she knew the ins and outs of the system. She had taken no part in it, but she knew exactly what strings needed to be pulled where and what words to say. She lets go of your hand and rubs her face. Her expression is grim.

“I’d say call Investigator Blanc. He won’t be able to do anything at this point. It’s not an official threat, and he hasn’t followed up on it, so there’s nothing anyone can legally do. We can prep for the worst, though.” Claire lets out a sigh. “I’ll talk to my dad and get his opinion.” 

“I’m sorry.” She raises an eyebrow at that. “For everything. I know this isn’t easy for you either, and I didn’t mean to bring this kind of pain into your life, and I’m sure it’s bringing up bad me-” She reaches across the table and presses a finger to your lips.

“You’re rambling.” She gives you a comforting smile, the one she knows will make you instantly relax. “And you have nothing to apologize for. That trustfund rat bastard does.”

“Good luck with that. I’m sure it’s my fault, somehow.” You snort, taking a large drink of your tea.

“He won’t be thinking that for long if I get my hands on him.” That gets an genuine snort of laughter from you. “I’m dead serious.”

“And I’m sure his lawyers will be if that happens. You don’t know these people like I do, Claire. They will stop at nothing to get what they want, especially if they think they’re entitled to it.” Your gaze drops to the table. Claire is silent, and you can tell she’s thinking about asking you something you might not want to answer. 

“Does he think he’s entitled to you?” Claire finally asks. “And I don’t mean in the way that every man thinks a woman owes him.” Your face scrunches up at that, prompting her to continue. “I mean... some guys look at a woman, and it goes beyond gender. It’s like he sees something special, and he wants it because he wants to be the one who says they tamed that untamable horse.”

“The kind of guy that wants the horse to be tamed only for him?” Claire nods.

“Yeah. Exactly. Do you think he views you that way?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t think so. I know so.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Harlan makes you get out of the house every Saturday. Well, makes you is a strong word, but he makes it clear that you have to leave for at least several hours on Saturday. He claims it’s a good way for you to cultivate experiences that will help you make your art more realistic. It’s a year-long internship, so it doesn’t take long for you to get bored exploring by yourself. By the fifth week, you’re on Tinder. At the very least, you can go somewhere with another person. Even if the date sucks._

__

__

You’ve talked to several guys, but none of them really seem to click with you. You often end up going out by yourself. Too many of the guys in the area are the rich type that just want another notch in their belt, and you’re not looking for that. You’re not sure what you’re looking for, but you know it isn’t that. Maybe if they weren’t so cocky you’d be willing.

One guy does catch your attention. His name was Jake, and what caught your attention was his opening message. You’d just matched with him, and it doesn’t take him long to message you.

Jake: Are you the new girl? The one interning with Harlan?

You snort at that. Everyone in the area claimed that there was no way the famous author lived nearby, yet they all seemed to know when something new happened at his place.

I might be. You type out a quick response.

Jake: You want to kill Ransom yet?

That makes you laugh. Several other guys had mentioned Ransom, but it was more the vein of they were his best friend, as if it would impress you. You could tell all of them hated him.

Since the moment I met him.

Jake: want to piss him off?

Who doesn’t?

Jake: Want a free dinner out of it too?

Why, Mr. Jake, are you asking me out?

Jake: I guess I am. As a friend.

What’s the catch?

Jake: Nothing. You get a free dinner, and we both get a show.

Jake: I’ve been his ‘friendly’ competition all his life. I know what to do to make him angry.

You bite your lower lip as you think.

How do I know you’re not just like him? Or that you’re not playing me too?

Jake: You don’t. But I can tell you I’m just in it to make his life miserable.

Jake: I’ll be at the Red Revolver at 8. I do hope to see you there.

You suck in a breath through your teeth. The Red Revolver was expensive for this place. You had planned on going there towards the end of your internship, when you had enough money saved up to truly splurge. You risk a look towards your closet. You had gotten your first paycheck recently and had gone shopping with it, wanting to wear clothes that made you feel like you fit in.

How fancy do I need to dress?

Jake: Wear a dress. You can probably get away with whatever accessories you want so long as you’re wearing a nice dress.

You went out last-minute shopping that Saturday, coming back around 2 in order to start getting ready. You’d just gotten the dress on when you remembered something you left in your car. You curse softly under your breath and head back downstairs. Linda and Richard had stopped by, so they had gone with Harlan God knows where. You weren’t sure if Ransom had gone with them. He was hanging around a lot because he was doing a supposed internship.

Of course, luck was not your friend at the moment. You’ve only just started down the hall when you hear someone coming up the stairs. Ransom turns the corner a few moments later. You decide to walk past him, intent on getting your things from the car. An unreadable expression crosses his face before a smug smirk makes an appearance.

”Huh.” He says the single word, rolling it around like he’s genuinely confused. You try to skirt past him. Ransom is nothing if not an asshole, so he steps to the side to block you. The glimmer in his eyes makes you uncomfortable.

”Going somewhere?” His question is innocent, but his demeanour isn’t.

”I left something in my car. If you could just let me by.” You smile at him, hoping he’ll let you pass. He surprises you by stepping to the side, but he grabs your arm as you try to pass. It’s a firm hold, not enough to bruise but enough to let you know you’re not going anywhere.

”Funnily enough, that’s why I’m here. Saw you left this by your car and thought you might want it.” He pulls a small bag, the one you had left by accident, from within his coat. His gaze is intense, making you want to shy away. Instead, you hold out an expectant hand.

“That’s what I was looking for. If I could just have it.” He makes an amused noise.

”A birdie told me that you were on Tinder. I thought it was a joke. Surely you know you’re not attractive enough to get a date around here.” His eyes glitter with amused malice.

”The world is full of surprises. Now give me.” You try to reach around him, but he moves his hand, laughing.

”You’re cute, you know that? Thinking you’re more than a charity case.” You bite down hard on your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

”Whatever you say. Now give me. Please?” You figure the addition of please will make him happy enough he’ll leave you be. He makes a face like he’s considering it.

”Nah. Not without something in return.”

”Let me guess. You want me to say something about how I’m undeserving or some other bullshit that puts me down.” You manage to not roll your eyes, but your tone makes it clear that you want to.

”You’re such a fucking bitch.” His tone is amused. “I’m just trying to help.”

No one is around as far as you’re aware, so you take your chances. You’re glad you have heels on. You step down hard on his foot, making him drop the bag in surprise. You scoop it up without a second thought. “I am so sorry! I didn’t see your foot there, Ransom.” Your tone is innocent, but the look on your face is anything but. Anger flashes across his features, but then he starts laughing.

”Oh, you just love digging yourself deeper into that hole, don’t you?” He snarls, advancing on you. Part of you tells you to take a step back, but something about his threat makes you stand your ground. You lift your chin up, giving him a defiant look.

”What are you going to do? Go crying to Mom and Dad like the little bitch you are? Mommy, the mean girl won’t do what I want her to do.” He falters for a second, as if he wasn’t expecting you to fight back. You step towards him. “Face it, kid. You’re just salty because you can’t control me. You try to buy me, and you can’t. So you put me down. But that’s not working either.” At this point, you’re nearly nose to nose with him. “You can’t stand the fact that I’m better than you, and I don’t even come from money. You’re being bested by a backwoods hick.” You stay like that for a second, looking directly at him. Amusement glitters in his eyes.

”Are you done yet?” His tone is complete and utter boredom.

Well. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. You take a slow step backwards, eying him suspiciously.

”I mean, it is funny you think you’ve won.” He seems to revel in your sudden discomfort. “But we haven’t even started.” Ransom bridges the gap between the two of you. Your first instinct is to back down, but you don’t. You bring your chin right back up to look him in the eye again. “Once I’m through with you, you’ll be nothing more than my little bitch.”

”Will I?” You try to keep your tone amused. “I think you’re going to find yourself being the little bitch. You’ll certainly cry like one.”

 _He steps back with a laugh. “Keep on talking like that. I can’t wait to punish you..” He breezes past you and towards one of the many studies upstairs. You stand there in the hall for several more minutes, willing your heart to calm down. As you do, you narrow your eyes. You don’t know what your plan is, but you know that you won’t let him win. No matter the cost.  
_ \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit.” Inspector Blanc’s swearing makes you laugh. It’s something you didn’t expect from him. “I do apologize. I know I shouldn’t swear in front of a lady, but I just-”

“Can’t find any other way to express how you’re feeling?” You supply.

“That is it exactly.” You can almost hear him thinking on the other end of the phone. “Do you have proof that it is indeed Ransom?”

“I have a friend who’s family is law enforcement. She’s seeing if they can check and see who the number is registered to.” You rub your temples. “I do hope it’s a prank, but I don’t think it is.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you.” Benoit seems just as displeased as you are. “I’m not sure how they managed it, but Ransom is indeed getting out within the next two days. Given that, and what you just gave me, I feel as if I should pass along some information.”

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“You’re not. Another inmate apparently heard him say something about you. He was listing off the people he intended to visit once he got out. Marta was on the list as well, but I think he’s more likely to visit you first. Well, once he lets Marta know he’s out. He’s a murderer but a clever one. He knows it’ll be too risky to try anything against her so soon.”

“But no one knows our connection.” You finish for him, letting out a long sigh. “What do I do.”

“Again, you are sure your address is not a matter of public record?” 

“Positive. The address of my company is, but I’ve already called them and told them to increase security. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and burn the place down.” You pull a piece of paper out from one of your desk drawers. “I have security cameras at my place. I didn’t hire any guards because the records might lead back to the house. Besides, I have several dogs on the property.”

Blanc listens to you list off the rest of your security. “I don’t think there’s anything else you can do at this point, as much as I am loathed to say it. I’m inclined to say that you shouldn’t have any patrolmen outside of your house until something more happens. I have a feeling that he’ll be looking for records like that, and that will just lead him straight to you.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “That’s what I’m thinking too.”

“Do keep me appraised of the situation. I have a feeling that the family will make their presence known shortly.”

“They better not.” Your words come out as a growl.

“Unfortunately, they most likely will.” The inspector wishes you goodbye, and you do the same. You hang up the phone and stare at the ceiling for a while. It doesn’t provide any answers.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You decide to brave the office the next day. You know it’s a mistake as soon as you enter the building. You’re just about to get into your office when you hear the noise of a cane behind you and someone calling your name

“Fuck me.” You whisper to yourself before turning around with a smile. “Walt. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Walt somehow looks even more pathetic than he did when you left the Thrombey’s. “I’m sorry I stopped by unannounced. I was hoping to catch you yesterday, but they said you weren’t in.”

“I took a personal day.” You give him a tight-lipped smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I know it’s been years, but I wanted to apologize for how things ended with your internship.” It takes all of your willpower to not roll your eyes. The family could call Ransom a piece of shit all they wanted, but when an outsider showed up with proof, he was suddenly an angel who could do nothing wrong. Harlan told you the reason he was letting you go was for your own safety, and you knew he was sincere. Walt had tried to ruin your career for the longest time. It took several years, a lot of money, and some of the best lawyers to get him to stop. 

Ironically, he helped you make money by doing that. While a lot of people loved Harlan’s works, many also hated his family. A good portion of your fanbase came from people who saw you as the first person to take a stand against the Thrombey’s. You never confirmed or denied if some of your works critiquing the rich were inspired by the family. In fact, your only comments about them was how much you appreciated Harlan and saw him as a mentor.

“I see. I appreciate it.” Your tone makes it very clear that it is not accepted, and you don’t forgive them in the slightest. Walt takes a step towards you, but you don’t back down. You lift your chin up, as you always did, at the challenge. The movement holds a little more pride to it this time, though. 

You realized something the minute you saw Walt.

You had told Inspector Blanc you were tired of running. And you were. What occurred to you was that you had been running far longer than you thought, and that by running, you were letting them win. 

You weren’t really tired of running.

You were tired of letting them win.

You had been letting them win by not confirming or denying the unpleasant rich families were inspired by them. You had been letting them win by moving out to Texas and hiding your address. You had been letting them win by not going to Harlan’s funeral or wake.

You were fucking tired and angry, and this time, you were going to make them pay.

So you arch one eyebrow as Walt takes a step towards you, lifting your chin in the same defiant way you did everytime Ransom tried to pull shit. 

“You have to understand where we were coming from. We’ve had a lot of people try to take advantage of us, and we thought that’s what you might be doing.” Walt tries to look like a kicked puppy.

“Even when you apologize, you still can’t admit you did something wrong.” Your voice almost sounds like a stranger, but it kindles a spark within you. It’s a tone you haven’t heard yourself use in a long time. It seems to throw Walt off somewhat. “That must be nice. Tell me, did you decide to come all this way on your own, or was the family’s idea? And are you checking in on me as a competitor or as a way to see if I’m miserable without your precious money? Money that you don’t have anymore.”

“I came to apologize.” Walt’s tone is sharp, making several of your employees look your way for a second. 

“And I’m asking who’s idea it was.” You take a step towards him. “I think that’s something you can tell me, if you truly came to apologize. I mean, what’s the harm?’

Walt shakes his head. “You know, I see why Ransom had a thing for you. You’re just as much of a shit as he is.”

Normally, such a barb would throw you off your game, but something told you that his name would come up. It does make you stop for a second, and you know Walt sees it. 

“You can’t really say that, though, can you? I mean, Ransom is a convicted murderer and a rapist. Well, ‘alleged’ rapist. Me? I’m just another girl born to a lower class that’s going to tear the family apart.” You give Walt your most charming smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You can see it on his face that he’s trying so hard to not say that phrase. That phrase that would ruin his whole career.

“You and Ransom deserve each other.” He spits before walking away. You make a face at that. So close to what you had wanted him to say. Slowly, you turn back towards your office.

“Amy. I’m thinking I might be ready to talk about the Thrombey family. Do you think anyone would be willing to bite?” Your assistant looks up at you.

“Colbert has been wanting to talk with you about that for a while.” She smiles, and it makes you feel a little better about the world. “I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“What do you mean you’re going to talk to Colbert about it?” Claire doesn’t get mad at you often, but this is one of those rare times.

“Come on, Claire! I’m finally standing up for myself.” You frown. 

“And your timing is terrible. Ransom is getting out in a day, and now is when you want to do it? The family will eat you alive!”

“They were going to eat me alive either way.” You can’t help snapping back. “I might as well go down swinging.”

Claire pinches the bridge of her nose, and you know you’ve truly upset her. You make your way over to her. “I’m sorry. I know this is a bad time, but when Walt came by and I stood up for myself? I haven’t felt that me in such a long time.” Hesitantly, you loop your arms around her. She silently lets you pull her into the hug.

“What’s upsetting me is that you didn’t think about how it would affect more people.” You frown, brows furrowing together. You’re not sure what she means by that. “You’ve said it before, that they’ll stop at nothing. That means I could be collateral.”

Fuck.

Shit. Fuck.

You put your head in the crook of Claire’s neck. “Fuck. You’re right. I didn’t even think about that. Shit. I am so fucking sorry Claire. I’ll cancel the interview. I can always do it later.” She takes your hand and grips it.

“No. I don’t. It’s good you’re standing up for yourself.”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt!” You want to beat your head against a wall. Claire squeezes.

“We can figure something out.” You suspect she’s already got something in mind from her tone.

“What is it?” You nudge her gently. “What are you thinking?’

“My dad and I were talking, and he thinks it might be a good idea for me to move back home until all of this blows over. At least, move somewhere else.” She sounds so sad about it that it makes your heart sink even more than it already was. The worst part is you can see the logic. You huff.

“I don’t like the idea. But it makes sense.” You finally offer. She turns in your hold, surprise written all over her face. “Neither of us expected this. I’ve always thought it was just going to be me fighting this, so I only planned for myself. I don’t want you getting hurt, and it’s too late to modify the plan for two people.” You try to fight back the tears, but they start coming despite your best efforts. “I don’t want to, trust me.”

“I don’t want to either.” Her voice goes soft. “But you’re right. It makes sense.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Neither one of you wants to move from the other’s embrace. The night proceeds quietly, both of you consumed with thoughts and worries.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Red Revolver isn’t a bad drive. It’s summer, so it’s not terribly cold out. You put on a leather jacket over your red dress and a beautiful pair of knee-high boots with heels. It feels weird to give your keys to the valet. You make a mental note to tip them well when you get your car. You go inside the door and begin searching for your date. It doesn’t take you long. Someone says your name, and you turn to find Jake. He’s more handsome in person, dark hair and grey eyes.

“Jake?” You ask. He nods. When you offer him your hand, he takes it and places a kiss on the back. That makes you grin slightly. He motions for you to follow him.

“They’re getting us a table. Want to wait at the bar?”

“Why not?” He offers you his arm, and you take it. He walks with you as opposed to dragging you behind him.

“I’d pull your chair out, but...” He motions to the bar stools, making you laugh. His eyes shine, and you feel like you could get lost in them. You take a seat, and he sits next to you. The bartender makes his way over when Jake waves him down. You order an Old Fashioned, which seems to surprise Jake. He orders the same thing.

“Didn’t take you for a whiskey girl.” He teases. You shrug. 

“I’m wearing a leather jacket in a fancy-schmancy place. I think that screams whiskey girl.”

“Fair. Fair.” The drinks are back quickly, and he wastes no time taking a sip. “So, here’s the plan. I’m friends with one of the hostesses here, and she wants to see Drysdale suffer too. Apparently he doesn’t tip nearly enough.”

“I’m not surprised.” You drawl, making Jake laugh.

“She’s got some friend that she knows Drysdale will go for. They’re supposed to be here soon. Now, my friend has it so that they’ll sit over there.” He points to a section.

“Okay?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Oh, it’s a good section, but it’s not The Section.” You snort at that. Of course there’s a special section. “My friend has got it all worked out so that we get the last table in the good section. They’ll be able to see us from over there.”

“Jake.” A blonde hostess comes up. She smiles at you, a genuine smile. “Oh, you’re the girl! The one that’s my new best friend.”

“Enemy of my enemy?” She nods before turning back to Jake. Her name tag reads Stephanie. 

“The table is ready. If you’ll follow me.” Once again, Jake offers you his arm, and the two of you follow Stephanie. The table she takes you to is slightly secluded, offering a sense of privacy. You notice Jake has you sit where you’ll be seen first. Stephanie waits for the two of you to get settled before leaning in slightly. “This better be worth it. You have no idea how much I owe that friend for doing this.” With that, she’s gone.

“Is there more to the plan?” You ask. Jake smiles at you.

“There is, but I’m not telling you. It’ll spoil the fun.” He pauses for a second. “Wait, actually. How okay are you with PDA? I’m not thinking making out, but it’ll work better if I can get a little handsy.”

“As long as it’s not creepy handsy.”

“I would never.”

The two of you talk as you wait for a server. Jake apparently has known Ransom since they were little and has always enjoyed antagonizing the other. He’s also funny and witty, and you find yourself slowly forgetting that this isn’t a real date, that you’re just doing this to make Ransom mad. It helps that Jake actually listens to you intently. He seems to appreciate your insights and stories. 

“Not trying to interrupt, but they’ve walked in. Just keep that in mind.” Jake stops you at the end of one story.

“Alright.” You resist the urge to turn around and look. A thought occurs to you. “Is there anything I could be talking about when he gets here that’ll get under his skin?”

“The go-to would be anyone you’ve dated.” Jake runs his tongue along his lower teeth. “But honestly, anything that makes you laugh and look like you’re having fun.”

“Alright. Do you want to hear about my roommate from sophomore year?” Jake’s eyes light up at your tone.

“I do.” He sounds sincere about it. So you begin with the story of that roommate hooking up with a delivery driver. You’re about to the point where she hooks up with the driver again when Jake’s eyes dart over your shoulder, and his smile widens. He leans in, and you do as well.

“So, let me get this straight.” He begins. You can tell it’s more for your audience than it is for you. “While you were at the beach, she texted you to tell the guy that she wasn’t crazy?”

“Yup.” You make sure to pop the p. He’s already clarified this, which confirms your suspicion. “I wish I was making this up.” You can hear Ransom talking, his voice floating over the noise of the crowd. 

“How do you want to do this?” You ask. Jake smiles.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He hums in thought. You can’t hear the target of this operation, but you can feel a set of eyes upon you. “Would it be too presumptuous of me to say in the car? The car and then the house?” It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in, but when they do, you’re fairly certain your blush covers your entire face.

“Stop it.” You mock hiss, trying not to laugh. Jake grins and leans forward even more.

“I wouldn’t have figured you to be a blusher. You learn new things every day.” He pauses for a moment, biting his lower lip. “Is it a full body blush? Do I get to find out?”

“If you play your cards right.” You pretend to not feel Ransom coming up behind you.

“Jake.” Ransom doesn’t sound pleased at all. “I thought you were out of town.”

“Came back earlier in the week. Milan got boring.” You have to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “Have you met my date?”

“Yeah. Yeah I have.” It’s clearly ground out from between gritted teeth. “I was actually hoping to have a word with her.” 

You decide to turn around then. Ransom is doing his best to not seem angry, but he’s failing. You’re somewhat surprised; he seems almost livid.

“Alright. Choose your word carefully.” Jake lets out a snort of laughter that he tries to cover up with a cough.

“Har har har.” A hand is on your arm, and you’re nearly yanked out of your seat. “We need to talk. Outside.”

“Let go of me.” You keep your voice calm. “I’ll go outside with you, but not like this.”

“I’d listen to her.” Jake’s tone shifts from jovial to serious. Ransom huffs but makes a show of letting go of your arm. You look to Jake. He looks genuinely worried.

“Go. I’ve got you.” He says. With that small reassurance, you follow Ransom out. He’s outside by the trellis, pacing back and forth. It’s close to the entrance, which gives you a sense of safety. Hesitantly, you step towards him, trying to keep yourself within sight of other people. Ransom doesn’t make that easy, grabbing your arm and pulling you to the side.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” He hisses. You pull your arm back. 

“I’m on a date. What does it matter to you?” You want to smack him. He laughs, although there’s no real amusement behind it.

“What does it matter? You’re about to whore yourself out to prove a point, and I’m the one with a problem?” He’s clearly not in a good state of mind. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not. I’m just having dinner with him. And even if I was, what business is it of yours?”

“I offer, nicely I might add, to help you out, and you get all pissy bitch on me. Jake, what, looks at you, and I catch you practically already on your knees with his dick in your mouth. Unbelievable.” 

You cross your arms. “Are you still mad that I won’t let you bribe me? Is that what your fucking attitude is about? Or is it just that I’m the first girl who’s told you no?”

“What did he tell you? That he could piss me off? He did mention his habit of chewing up and spitting out the girls like you, the ones that think it’s funny to fuck with me?” He steps towards you. “I knew you were a fucking idiotic bitch, but I hoped that you’d be better than that.”

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions.” Your hands curl into fists. “You’re acting like I had planned on sleeping with him or some shit to prove a point. I just wanted a nice fucking dinner, and you have to come and fucking ruin it like you do everything else. And you wonder why people hate you.”

“Oh, you’re here to prove a point, alright. You can’t fucking stand the fact that I’ve got better things to do, so you resort to middle school antics to try and get my attention. You’ve got my attention now.” You’re vaguely aware of a crowd of people forming to watch the two of you argue.

“I don’t want your attention. I don’t want anything from you. Why can’t you understand that?” You hiss. “I literally want nothing from you. Nothing. Zip. Nada.” You turn and make your way back inside, hoping the crowd will prevent Ransom from trying anything. They part for you, and you hear Ransom follow you. Thankfully, you manage to get enough space between the two of you that he doesn’t try anything. You make it inside and to your table with Jake. It’s clear you’re still furious. You can’t shake with rage, but it doesn’t stop your hands from shaking like leaves in the wind. Jake takes one look at you and stands up quickly.

“Hey. Do you want to get out of here?” He looks genuinely worried. You nod. “Okay. I had ordered for both of us, but I’ll track down Stephanie real quick and tell her to get it to go. We’ll go somewhere else and come back for the food. You can get your car then. Sound good?” You nod once more. Ransom storms past you to his table, and you feel sorry for his date. You have no doubt they’ll be leaving as well. Thankfully, Jake is able to get you out of there before things go south with the other couple. Jake leads you down to the nearby lake.

“I didn’t realize he’d get that mad.” You’re expecting surprise and shock, but you aren’t expecting glee. You whip your head around to look at him. He’s leaning back on the bench, looking up at the sky with his hands clasped behind his head. Jake turns his head and smiles at you.

“Fuck, I knew he had a thing for you, but I didn’t realize he had it that bad.” He laughs.

“Excuse me?” You manage to find your voice. He huffs. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know he has a thing for you.” He pauses when he sees your face before he starts howling with laughter. “You’re fucking kidding me! You didn’t realize?”

“I know he’s an asshat.” You let your tone indicate that you feel the same way about Jake right now. 

“Dude. He went way out of his way to be an asshole to you. That’s like, love, for him. If he even knows what love is.” Jake chuckles. “Hell, I knew that he had a thing for you just by doing some cursory research about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You huff. You can hear screaming and guess Ransom has come outside with his date. Jake turns to look over his shoulder, and his laugh confirms it for you.

“Look. He’s so angry he’s about to pop a literal rage boner.” Jake’s laugh dissolves into chortles. “Oh shit. This is amazing.”

You don’t look. The screaming and yelling tells you enough. Instead, you look at your phone to check the time. It’d probably be another 30 minutes before the food was ready. You huff and stand up. Jake looks at you curiously.

“Where are you going?”

“Does it really matter?” You make your way up the hill to the restaurant. The girl is sitting at the edge of the walkway, trying not to sob, while Ransom takes his anger out on the valet. You go up to her.

“Hey.” She looks at you, her mascara running. “I saw an ice cream place on the way here. It’s probably a 15-20 minute walk. Do you want to come with me?”

You don’t know why you offer, it just seems right. You hold out your hand, and she takes it, pulling herself up. She wipes some of her makeup off with the back of her hand. 

“Why not. Everything’s fucked anyway.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Colbert gets you scheduled to come on the next week. So you have a week with nothing to do once you help Claire move her stuff out of the house. You end up spending a decent amount of time at your studio at the office. You try to take all of your nervous energy and anxiety and transfer it to a blank page. Whether it’s words or drawings, you don’t really care. You just want the energy out. You can’t let it fester inside of you.

You plan out some of what you’re going to say and run it by your lawyers. You want to make sure there is absolutely nothing that the Thrombey family can use to sue you. You have to prepare just in case this becomes as nasty as you think it will. 

Night finds you sitting out on your porch. It’s summer, so the night air feels wonderful against your skin. You’ve got a bottle in one hand. You let that one dangle over the edge of the porch as you sit on the steps. Occasionally, you take a sip. You hadn’t been feeling like leaving the lights on inside, so you’ve got candles scattered about your feet. The hall light is on for when you finally feel like going to bed.

You’re about ready to call it a night when you hear something. It sounded like a car coming down your gravel driveway. The dogs are in the back, but you hear them start baying. That makes your frown. Slowly, you stand up. The property has an electronic gate, so there’s no way someone could get in without the key. Still, you worry. You grab one of the candles and head towards the gate. Your dogs coming running by you, howling and barking the entire time. As you walk, you can see light in brief flashes through the trees.

You get to the gate. You can see something coming around the corner, and then a wide band of light shines on you. You shield your eyes. The dogs go even crazier. You can hear the purr of an engine, a distinctive engine, underneath the noise. The light dim, and you hear someone get out of the car. Slowly, you lower your arm.

“What do you want?” You try to keep your voice even and steady. The stranger comes around so he’s only lit by the headlights of his car, but you know who it is without being able to see them. No one else would show up on your property like this.

“I just want to talk.” Ransom’s voice washes over you, and you have to fight the sudden urge to dry heave. You thought you’d be fine, hearing him again. You’re not. You’re everything in the world but fine.

“Then talk. Before I call the police.”

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot all those years ago.” The gravel crunches under his feet. “I was an ass, and I had some time to think about why.”

“Because you’re a spoiled rich bitch?” You snarl.

“Because I want to marry you.” He sounds so confident, so sure of himself. As if he expects you to open the gate and fall at his feet. You don’t know what to do. You hear a noise after a couple seconds, and it takes you a minute to realize it’s laughter. Not only is it laughter, it’s your laugh. You’re laughing, and it’s the deranged sort of laugh that indicates pure anger.

“Oh fuck.” Your laughter dies down, and you wipe the corners of your eyes. “That’s a good one, Drysdale. That’s a real good one.”

“I’m serious.” His tone makes you jerk your head back up to look at him. “Yeah, you’re a fucking bitch, but you’re my fucking bitch.” The gravel crunches. He comes into focus. He looks far better than someone who spent a year in prison should look.

“How romantic.” You drawl. “You really think you can come in and say you want to marry me? After all the shit you put me through?” 

He shrugs. “Made you stronger, didn’t it? Got you where you are.”

“Fuck. You.” You spit out. “I don’t know what your fucking damage is, but you need to get it the fuck away from me.”

“That’s no way to treat the guy who made you.” His tone could be considered teasing in any other circumstance. 

“Get the fuck off my property. If you come near me again with this fucking bullshit.” You pause, trying to think of the appropriate threat. He steps back, putting his hands in the air.

“You know I’ll win.” His voice is dark. “I can’t wait for the day it’s official. A ring on your finger letting everyone know I won. That I always win.” The noise of the door to the car opening nearly shocks you. It slams soon after, and tires squeal as he pulls out of your drive and away into the night.

You promptly puke into the bushes right by you.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day starts calmly. Too calm for your liking. You know Ransom and how he is, so you’re on edge the entire day. The weather seems to reflect your mood. Yesterday, the forecast had said that it was supposed to be nice, but the rain is coming down in sheets currently. Since Linda and Richard are still in town, they take Harlan out again. You aren’t sure where; you don’t care enough to pay attention. All you know is that you’re in the house alone, and that Ransom is probably still pissed from last night. Part of you hopes that he’ll just ignore you, pretend it never happened. He’s just as likely to do that as he is to blow up once again.

You’ve been trying to clean your room within the house. It’s something that needs to be done, and you also figure it will help you declutter your mind. It ends up being a good distraction. You have to go through your clothes and decide to try them on, find out what fits and what doesn’t. Halfway through, you turn it into a fashion show for just yourself. You had found a lingerie set that you bought to wear to any hookups, and you had a robe that matched. You’re having fun in front of the mirror, posing like some sort of pin-up girl, when a voice interrupts you.

“I think Marilyn did it better.” You have the presence of mind to tie the robe shut before you whirl around to face the intruder.

“Jesus fuck, Ransom. How long were you standing there like the creep you are? And what gives you the fucking right to just barge in?”

“You wouldn’t have answered if you knew it was me.” His eyes are roaming up and down your body. At least he seems to be in a better mood than last night. You tighten the robe further.

“You’re absolutely right. What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” His expression is the picture of innocence.

“Then talk.” He steps into your room as if you’d given him permission with that, looking around.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He seems intent on getting under your skin. He trails his hand over the footboard of the bed. “Red looks good on you, by the way.” You can’t help turning red, but you’re not sure if it’s anger or something else.

“What do you want?” You bite out from between gritted teeth. He sits on the end of your bed.

“We didn’t finish the conversation from last night.” His expression darkens. You want to snort. Of course he’d wait to have this conversation at a moment when you’d feel vulnerable in some way.

“We did, as far as I’m concerned.” You make the mistake of turning your back on him. He stands up lightning fast and grabs your arm again, whirling you around to face him. The force of the movement makes you almost crash into him, your arms the only thing between both of your chests. You glare up at him. An errant thought makes you realize that the two of you have to look like some cheap romance novel cover right now. Him with his stupid sweater that costs at least $200, looking down at you, and you in a silk robe falling off at the shoulder, looking up at him. 

“See, we didn’t. Not from where I’m standing.” Your eyes narrow. “You have my attention like you wanted.”

“I don’t want your attention.” You hiss. “Now let go of me.”

“No.” He laughs at your expression. “Tell me something. Did you end up going home with Jake?”

“Nope. He turned out to be a fuckwad.” You don’t know why you felt the need to be honest at that moment. Ransom hums. He still hasn’t let you go, but his grip has loosened somewhat. You suspect that he’ll tighten it if you struggle, so you don’t.

“You’re not struggling.” He notes, mirth in his voice. “Is this what it takes to get you to calm down, just some rough handling?”

“Oh, fuck you!” You go to push him away, but he tightens his grip like you thought he would. 

“You can tell me.” He sounds too damn smug for your liking. “I can keep a secret.”

“Like hell you can!” You don’t know why you’re surprised by his audacity today. “I heard you blabbing shit about someone just the other day.”

“So you do listen to what I say.”

“Yeah because your obnoxious voice carries. Now let me go!” You start wriggling in his grip. He does let go, causing you to fall back onto the bed with a soft ‘oomph’. He laughs at that. You go to sit up, but he grabs you by your calf and lightly tugs you toward him, causing you to fall back down.

“What the fuck, Ransom? What is your problem today?” You try to kick him with your free leg. He grabs you by the other calf. You try not to think about how this has to look as you grab onto the footboard, using it to try and pull yourself away from him. 

“I did a little bit of research last night.” He sounds so casual about it, and your heart sinks. 

“You’re even more of a fucking creep than I thought.” You try to sound imperious, even as you can feel him pulling you back towards him. The dynamic between the two of you seems to be shifting. Well, that’s not entirely true. This part of the dynamic had always been there, underneath everything. It was just the first time you truly noticed the tension. Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The first time you willingly acknowledged the tension.

“Hush, dear. A man is talking.” Your yelp of outrage gets a genuine laugh from him. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You blink. That was odd. You never thought you’d get a compliment like that from him. “Okay, what is it, Ransom? What game are you playing today?”

He smirks. You have to repress a shudder when he starts rubbing his thumbs along your calves, pressing just enough to ease some of the tension. You’ll be damned if you admit it feels nice. He’s watching you intently, so you can’t give him the satisfaction. 

“I should’ve known you’d melt at a compliment. You’re all fight, but you just want someone to take care of you, don’t you?” His tone is patronizing yet his voice is soft. Oddly enough, it sends a shiver up your spine. You watch him carefully. You don’t like this shift one bit. 

“It’s got to be tiring, feeling like you’ve gotta fight for everything you want.” You’re waiting for the mocking to begin, but it doesn’t. Slowly, you sit up, and this time, he lets you. He’s watching you just as intently as you are him, eyes glittering. You suddenly feel out of your depth.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Your heart is thundering in your ears. 

“I told you, I did a little bit of research last night.” He seems too proud of himself. “It was easy enough. You know what I figured out? It was something I should have seen from the beginning. You’re the kind of girl who is so used to fighting for everything in her life that you don’t know what to do with genuine affection.”

“So what? You think you’re going to win by throwing compliments my way?” You huff. “You’re not the first guy to try that, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

“Ha. Funny.” He rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not. Because you get suspicious when you don’t have to fight. You get bored too.”

“Oh, so you want to play the hot and cold game? Charming.” He lightly slaps the inside of your thigh, making you yelp. “What was that for?”

“You’re not listening.” He chides. “I’ve got you all figured out.”

“And I’m telling you that you don’t.” You snarl, sitting upright. He leans forward until his nose is almost touching yours. An amused smile plays around his lips.

“There you go again. You’re out of your depth, so you just resort to fighting.” He’s close, too close for your liking. His gaze keeps on darting to your lips. “You want someone who can deal with you when you’re like this, and someone you can trust enough to be soft around.” 

“What, and you think you’re that someone?” 

“No. I know I am.” You don’t know why the kiss catches you off-guard, but it does. He’d been practically telegraphing his intentions. It’s soft yet demanding, and you hate how easily you respond to it. Your hands go to the back of his head, fingers weaving into the dark strands. You tug lightly, and he makes a noise from deep within his chest that makes your toes curl. So you do it again. One of his hands comes to your hair, fingers burying deep within the strands. When he tugs, it nearly yanks your head back. You realize at some point he’s gotten down onto his knees, and that you’ve slid almost all the way off the bed into his lap. 

“Just a little genuine affection, and you’re like this.” His voice is smug. You roll your eyes, which prompts him to pull your hair again. You let out a noise that’s a cross between a hiss and a groan. “You can fight me all you want, but you know I’m right.”

“Are you done yet? Because I’d like to get back to what I was doing.” You try to sound thoroughly unaffected. Your heaving chest and blown-out pupils give you away. Ransom laughs, a low yet pleasant sound. 

“Oh, fuck. Every time you try to prove me wrong, you just show how right I am.” You glare at him. It’s not exactly the best move, but it’s the only one you could think of.

“I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit.” That earns you another tug, and this time you can’t help the groan that comes out. You can feel Ransom looking at you, his gaze somehow even more intense.

“What was that?” He teases, but something in his tone sounds as breathless as you feel. 

“You’re such a dick.” You tilt your head back when he starts planting kisses on the column of your neck. He was right; you were completely out of your depth. You kept your guard up, so not a whole lot of people say this side of you. Certainly not people you were fighting. 

“See, I’m just trying to get you to relax here.” He breathes right by your ear, nipping it lightly. “I want to show you that you can trust me. But I’m also not opposed to angry sex right now. I’m still pretty pissed from last night.” 

You lift your head up enough to see his face. You don’t know what to think, and it feels like looking at his face will give you a better idea of what exactly he’s planning. Looking at him turns out to be a mistake because he looks far more composed than you want him to be. You see something flit across his face for a second, but it’s gone before you can identify it. Ransom must have seen something in your expression because he grins.

“Slow it is.” He apparently had been paying attention when he was kissing your neck before because he zeros in on the spot that makes you keen, lightly running his teeth over the area. “I’m sure we’ll have our share of angry sex. Especially after this.” You put a hand on his shoulder. You want to convince yourself that you’re trying to push him away, but you can’t. Not when you tilt your head back even more, and your nails dig into his sweater. 

He pulls away for a moment, letting go of your hair. He takes a gentle hold of your chin and turns you to face him. The sincerity in his eyes nearly knocks the wind out of you. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice is low, so low you don’t think you heard him right. “The most beautiful and the most infuriating.” You can’t help laughing at that. Your laughter stops when he kisses you again. There’s something more behind this one, as if he’d confessed something or some sort of dam had broken within him.

“When you walked into this house that first day, I just thought you were some sort of frigid bitch. Just another girl using the family name to her advantage.” You pull his hair, and he hisses at that. It’s a noise that’s both pleasure and pain, so you do it again. “But you’re not some outsider who just wants a claim to fame. You can fucking play the game like the rest of us.” You let go of his hair in order to pull his sweater off of him. He pulls away long enough to help you do it. “Do you know how much it pissed me off when I realized that? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck you or slap you.”

“Sounds like you want to do both.” He bites the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard for that remark. You keen, throwing your head back. You can feel him smirk against your skin. 

“God, when you refused my help...” His voice turns into a snarl. His hands go to the cups of your bra, and he pulls them down. Clever fingers go to your nipples and start playing with them, circling before twisting. You let out a long, loud moan, so he does it again.

“Fuck. You know how to talk dirty to a girl.” You tease. He growls against your skin, an honest to God growl. It makes you glad that you’re all the way on his lap now, otherwise you would have fallen to the floor.

“You can’t shut the fuck up for five minutes, can you?” He moves from your neck to your breasts, kissing a sloppy line down your sternum.

“I thought you liked my mouth.” You hisses when he pinches one of your nipples super hard. You run your hands up along his back, making sure to dig your fingernails into the skin there. “Do want me to, oh fuck, talk about how much I want your dick?” He doesn’t respond, but you can tell from the way he fumbles with the tie to your robe that he definitely does. 

“Fuck, I wanted you the moment I saw you, you stupid trustfund brat. I wanted to own you completely, put you in your fucking place. The first time I saw that stupid smug smirk of yours, all I could think about was how pretty your face would look between my legs.” He finally unties the robe, and you let slide down off of you unceremoniously. You grab his hair and yank his head back up for a kiss. It’s sloppy and passionate, yet there’s something underneath it that you want to explore.

“Funny. All I could think about was how good you’d look with my dick in your mouth.” He breathes when the two of you pull apart.

“Who can’t shut the fuck up now?” You dig your nails into his shoulders. His hands go between the two of you, pushing your underwear to the side and running a finger along your slit.

“This for me?” He teases when he feels how slick you are. You want to roll your eyes, but he finds your clit, swiping over it briefly. It sends a full body shiver through you, and he grins before doing it again. You want to say something, but you can’t find any words. You lean forward, trying to steady yourself. Each swipe makes your knees get a little weaker. He seems to feed off of your growing whimpers and moans.

“I thought you wanted to own me, put me in my place.” A finger teases at your entrance, and you have to bite down hard on your tongue. That seems to amuse him more than anything else. “Ah haha. No. I want to hear you.” He’s entirely too smug for your liking, so you grab him again and kiss him. You try to snake one of your hands down past his and into his pants, but he grabs your wrist. Not to be deterred, you take your free hand that’s been resting on his back and skate it down to his ass. He stiffens at that, and before you know it, you’re being pushed off of him and onto the floor. 

“Don’t.” He growls in warning as he pins you under him, yanking his pants and underwear down. You try to give him an innocent smile. “I don’t know what kind of guys you’ve been with before, but I swear, if you try putting anything near my ass...”

“I wasn’t thinking about it, but now I a-” You cut yourself off as he pulls your panties down and yanks your legs apart. He lines himself up with you but doesn’t slide in yet, just rubbing his thick length against you. Your nails dig into his back when he passes the tip of his dick over your clit, so he does it again.

“Fuck, Ransom.” You hiss, hating how needy you sound. He stops, a grin coming onto his face.

Oh no.

“What was that?” He teases, doing it again. Your hips try to follow, but he’s quick to place an arm across them. “You sounded like you were about to beg.”

“I don’t beg.” You don’t sound nearly as haughty as you wanted. He makes an unconvinced noise. 

“You say that, but the way you just said my name...” He trails off for a second before a smirk makes its way onto his face. “You’re a fucking sub, aren’t you?”

“Am not.” Your words are undermined when he bites you, hard. The noise you let out can only be described as a moan. He seems entirely too gleeful at the idea. You go to dig your heels into his back, to get him to quit teasing. He grabs your arms and pins them above your head, holding them together at the wrist, and you know you’re gone. It must have shown on your face because he looks more and more pleased by the minute.

“If you want my dick, you know what you have to do.” Ransom runs one of his hands down to your outer lips. 

“Are you se-” You can’t help the sharp intake of breath as he dips one of his fingers into your entrance. “Fuck, Ransom! Please.”

He lets out a low noise that shouldn’t do what it does to you. “Please what?” He looks as if he’s barely holding onto any semblance of control.

“Please Sir!” You hope that one does something for him. It seems too because he doesn’t waste any time sliding into you. It burns since he didn’t prepare you too much, but you’re so slick that it doesn’t burn for long. He stays still for a moment once he’s fully inside of you, and you can see him close his eyes briefly.

“Oh fuck. You’re so tight.” He punctuates his words with a sinful roll of his hips that has you clutching whatever you can. One hand goes to his back, nails digging into his skin, while the other goes to the rug. Apparently Ransom has been waiting for this moment for a while because he sinks into a fast and dirty rhythm that leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head. He takes one of your legs and hooks it over his shoulder before dropping down to his forearms. The new angle has you seeing stars.

“Fuck.” His forehead comes to rest against yours for a brief moment. “You are so goddamn perfect for me. Like you’re made for me.” You must have clenched around him at his words because he doubles down on them. “Don’t ever take this pussy away from me. It’s mine. Fuck. You’re mine. All mine, no one else’s.” Ransom claims your lips in a brutal kiss, drinking in your whimpers. You hear someone saying something in response. It takes far too long for you to realize that every time he says something about being his, you confirm it with breathy whimpers of “yours.”  
One of his hands gets in between the two of you, and he starts circling your clit. “Come on. Cum for me like a good girl. Cum for me, only me. I want to feel it, want to feel my good girl come around my cock.” The extra stimulation, combined with his words, is enough to send you over the edge. It doesn’t take long for him to follow. 

The two of you lay there for several moments, both of you panting heavily. Ransom is the first to move. He slides out of you, and you make a face at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you. He rolls onto his side and just stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Eventually, he lets out a soft laugh.

“I’m going to have to remember this for the next time you get all pissy.” He finds his pants and boxers, putting them back on quickly. You grab the robe and tie it around you tightly. A sinking feeling starts forming in your gut. This was a mistake, and a bad one at that. Why the hell did you do this? Your inner monologue is stopped when Ransom takes ahold of your chin. He tilts it and makes you look at him.

“Red Revolver. 8 next Saturday. Wear something that’ll drive me crazy.” He’s already got his sweater on, so he stands up and heads towards the door. “Daddy wants to show off his good little girl.” You don’t miss the way he emphasizes the word his.

“Bastard.” You hiss under your breath once he’s out of earshot.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You bolt upright in bed. It’d been a while since you’d dreamed about that memory. Idly, you trace your hands along your thighs, where the bruises from his hands were. It had been so long, yet you could remember the marks. Your phone buzzed.

“Speak of the Devil.” You murmur to yourself as you look at the text messages. You had thought about changing your number the night you received that text message but had ultimately decided against it.

_Thought abt u. Abt our first time._

_Only regret that I didn’t take my time like I wanted_

_Wanted to drive you so insane with need_

_Wish I had gotten you to call me Daddy that first time :p_

You roll your eyes. Part of you wants to reply back, telling him to go fuck himself, and the other part of you wants to change your number. You opt for ignoring him. Knowing that he is reaching you, but he can’t do anything about it will drive him crazier than anything else. Your phone buzzed several more times in rapid succession.  
Should’ve made it official then

_Linda loved you. Wouldn’t stop hinting she wanted you in the family_

_Stop your silly crusade. You made your point_

_Come home. Need you here_

You huff at the last one. Despite yourself, you’ve already typed out a brief message. You stop yourself from sending it. You didn’t want to encourage this. Besides, it would sound petulant for you to point out that they never wanted you around in the first place. You opt to turn off your light and roll back over onto your other side. Your phone lights up twice more.

_I’ll drag you home if I have to. If that’s what it takes_

_Still mine. Forgetting doesn’t make it any less true_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Oh dear God. Discussions of toxic relationships/implications of one, discussion of murder and blaming the wrong party, stalking, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, gaslighting, emotional abuse, and some good old casual racism.

“Did you know Ransom is writing a book?” Claire seems agitated when she steps into your office. She places the rather hefty manuscript on your desk and slides it across the polished wood. You place a hand on top to pull it closer. A frown makes its way onto your face. 

“No. It’s not like the family speaks to me, though. Don’t know why.” Claire huffs at your sarcastic comment, but you can see she’s fighting a smile. “I’m actually surprised. I could easily see Walt telling me to try and piss me off.”

“I imagine you made him so mad he forgot.” She takes a seat in the chair on the other side of your desk. You idly flip through the pages, not truly concentrating on them. “I read part of it. It’s decent. He’s no Harlan, but he could get there.”

You look at her, raising an eyebrow. “It must be pretty good if you’re complimenting it.”

She runs her tongue over her bottom teeth. “I- He’s a good writer.”

“I sense there’s something you don’t want to tell me.” 

She frowns. She either doesn’t want to tell you or doesn’t know how to tell you. Probably both. Claire eventually takes a deep breath. “The main character’s love interest? She’s both his love interest and his narrative foil. It’s obviously you, and he does a decent characterization. He obviously had to take liberties, but even then, it’s- I could see you doing those things in those circumstances.”

“Ugh.” You groan, letting your head hit the polished surface. “Do I even want to know what it’s about.”

“It’s a murder mystery. Big surprise.” You don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “It’s different from Harlan’s, though.”

Despite yourself, you reopen the manuscript and look at the writing more intently. You only look at several pages before closing it again. 

You hate to admit that he is a pretty good writer. You can see the inspiration that Harlan might have provided with his books, but it also feels unique in its own way. The setting certainly helps. Harlan’s love for the dramatic and theatrical meant that his works often felt like british murder mysteries. This felt more like if a modern political thriller and a murder mystery had a child. It worked, though. 

You couldn’t help comparing it to Harlan’s works at first. However, as you skimmed through, you realized that this was not the work of a man trying to emulate his grandfather; this was something different. The work was all Ransom. You closed it because you felt yourself getting sucked into the world he’d built.

“Huh.” You say after a moment of thought. You’re unsure if you want to continue reading it or not. A part of you is afraid. You’re not sure you want to know what Ransom truly thinks of you. Claire seems to know what’s going on inside of your head because she smiles, reaching across the desk and taking your hand in hers. You intertwine your fingers as you think.

“Careful.” Her voice interrupts your reflection. You look at her. “I know that look. You’re thinking too hard. You don’t want to go to a bad place.”

“Too late.” You stick your tongue out at her. She levels you with a look that would make most people hide. It instead makes you laugh. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for a second. You bite gently down on the inside of your cheek, an idea coming to you. You let go of her hand and move to one of your desk drawers. You open it and quickly pop the false bottom out.

Harlan’s theatrics had a way of rubbing off on anyone who spent time around him. That, and you knew the family. Hiding things was the only way you could survive with them.

You take the stack of papers out and begin sorting through them. It’s everything you’ve been trying to work out since Blanc’s initial phone call. Pages of writings, half-done drawings, some storyboarding, all sorts of bits and pieces of potential works stare up at you. Claire watches you in silence, but you know she’s got that look on her face. She confided in you once that she loved it when she saw inspiration strike. You don’t remember exactly what she compared it to, but you knew it was sexy enough that you felt a thorough need to repay her for the compliment.

“I’ve always wanted to explore the politics going on behind the scenes.” You explain, setting some papers aside. 

“For which world?” Claire knows how this works. She doesn’t have to talk you through it, but she does. 

“The original one.” Claire blinks. The first piece that put you on track to becoming famous had been an animation. It was a way for you to deal with the trauma of what happened to you while at the Thrombey’s. It was the one that had been recently made into a full movie. You knew that the timing had everything to do with the #MeToo movement, especially since the story empowered victims. 

“How are you going to do it? Ruth’s ending was perfect.”

“Same universe, different story.” You hum. “I’ve always wanted to do something with Lucifer, especially since some people say that Lucifer and Satan are different.” You open another drawer, one full of older ideas. “My brain had put them together yet separate.”

“I’m not following.”

“In this world,” The papers hit the desk with a loud noise. “Lucifer and Satan are completely different people. They’re just bound together, if that makes sense.”

“Bound in the way Ruth is Michael’s vessel or in a different way?”

“No. It’s… Okay, the way I imagined it was that Lucifer helped Satan create the rebellion and all that. Now, she was God’s favorite, but He couldn’t just give her a free pass. So he binds her to Satan as her punishment. In a kind of physical, kind of emotional sense. Lucifer can be on Earth and all that, but she can’t go back to Heaven. Satan knows this, and he manipulated her into becoming the Mother of all Evil.” You pause for a second. “Ruth being Michael’s vessel was basically a rape victim reclaiming her sense of self, yes? Lucifer and Satan are a codependent toxic relationship.”

A look of understanding crosses Claire’s face. “Is Lucifer aware of what she’s doing? Does she want to get away?”

“Yup. That’s the storyline. It’s her battling with all the lies and manipulation that make her feel like she’s nothing without Satan, but she also wants to become a better angel. She wants to atone for her wrongdoings.”

“But that means confronting the fact that her partner is a piece of shit.” Claire’s eyes light up as well. “Oh, I like it.”

“Yup! She has to unlearn all this toxic behavior while being tied to the person who instilled these behaviors in the first place.”

Claire smiles at you, and your heart does somersaults. “I haven’t seen you get this excited about an idea for a long time.” She stands up. “Go ahead and call Max. Have him come in. You need to work on this will your ideas are fresh.”

You try not to think about what exactly caused this bolt of inspiration as you work. You try not to think about the fact that this was a response to Ransom’s book. You try not to think about the implications, you working on an idea revolving around a toxic relationship when Ransom makes an unexpected appearance into your life. 

It’s difficult, especially when your sketch of Satan comes out looking a lot like Ransom. Well, if Ransom hadn’t seen a razor in a while. 

“Fuck.” You hiss. You want to ball up the sketch, throw it away, but it’s perfect. It’s exactly what you envisioned in your brain. You roll away from your desk. At least you were at home, so no one could judge you too harshly. You grumble to yourself. Despite your best efforts, your gaze darts to the thick stack of papers you’d placed on another desk. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re curious as to what Ransom thinks of you. 

You roll your chair over to the book in progress. Hesitantly, you flip it open and begin.

_“Inspector Martin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man that steps forward clearly wants people to think he’s professional, but I know better. He smells of cheap cigarettes. One of the senator’s aides gives the man a dirty look. I shake his hand, trying to not recoil at the fact I can see dirt under his fingernails. “I’m Agent Wilson. I trust you understand this is to be kept in house?”_

_I nod. “I’m aware.” I try to keep my tone pleasant._

_“Excellent! I’m just here to make sure everything goes smoothly.” Ah. That would explain it. This man is the kind who thinks he’s in charge and useful, but he can barely lift his own pen. It’s hard to listen to him, his accent is so clearly an affectation and not genuine. “You’ll be working closely with Agent Silva. She was close friends with the Senator, God rest his soul.”_

_I pause at that. Agent Silva. That has to be a coincidence. It isn’t a common last name here, but it’s becoming more common. Agent Wilson leads me towards the scene. “Agent Silva will debrief you before you go in. There’s a lot of sensitive information you need to know to contextualize a few things.”_

_We round the corner, and my heart stops._

_It’d been years since we went our separate ways. I wasn’t sure how, but she was more gorgeous than she had been then. She’s looking at something on a board, biting down on her lower lip as she thinks. Her profile alone brings back so many memories. I realize Wilson is watching me, a sly smirk playing across his lips._

_I have to actively try not to punch him._

_“Have you met?” He clearly thinks he’s slick. I nod._

_“I’ve worked with her before, yes.” She chose that moment to turn, and God, everything comes rushing back to me. I look her in the eyes. I try to convey how sorry I am through my gaze, but it doesn’t work. Her gaze hardens, and her jaw sets._

_“Agent Wilson.” Her voice is sharp. It would make a lesser man cower. I notice out of the corner of my eye that Wilson seems a little unsure of himself. “You didn’t tell me Inspector Martin would be helping us.” The fury in her eyes makes me breathless. I always loved it when she got this way, even if it was towards me._

_“I told you we needed outside help.” He tries to placate her, and it takes all of my willpower to not smirk. He clearly hasn’t worked with her often._

_“Well, next time, be more specific about the outside help.” She hisses. She looks at me for the first time since I came into the room. Even though she’s clearly unhappy, I can see a lingering sadness in her eyes. I want to open my mouth and apologize, but I don’t know where to start. Not that she would believe me, anyway. It takes a lot to change her mind on the simple things, so it would take ages to do it for something like this._

_“Let’s get this over with.” She runs her hands through her hair and sighs. Wilson looks at me._

_“I don’t know what you did to make her mad, but I will be praying for you.”_

You close the manuscript. You’re unsure of how to feel. It bothers you that he seems to capture your character so well. You let out a long sigh, resisting the urge to run your hands over your face. This didn’t bode well for you at all. 

————————————————————————————-

You take a deep breath. You’re nervous. You know it won’t be bad because Colbert has always been one of your biggest supporters early on in your career. The nerves still creep in every once in a while. They call your name, and you make your way out. Now or never.

You do the usual, go over to Colbert and shake his hand before sitting down. He gives you a couple seconds to get comfortable in the chair.

“It’s good to see you! It’s been a while.” He leans forward. 

“It has! I missed you.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, earning you a laugh from the audience. 

“So, a little birdie told me that you wanted to talk about something. Something your fans have been speculating about for years.” Colbert adjusts how he’s sitting, rolling back slightly. “You interned with the late Harlan Thrombey for a good while, right?”

“I did.” You nod. “And for the most part, it was an amazing experience. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“His family can’t either. Well, more like they can’t believe their money is gone.” The audience chuckled at that. “Rumor has it, though, that some of the characters were inspired by the Thrombeys.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You lean towards him. “I mean, you know what it’s like, doing creative stuff. You end up drawing inspiration from people you know. Most of the time you don’t even realize until later, and it’s just like ‘…huh’.” Colbert rolls towards you, propping his elbows on the table. “Honestly, that’s the way it was with some of the characters that were inspired by that family. I wasn’t intentionally trying to model certain characters that way, but it kind of happened.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there before. Sometimes it just happens.” He reaches under his desk and pulls out a DVD case and several books. “Do you have any of these you’d like to talk about the inspiration for? Maybe give us some juicy details?” Cheers echo in the studio. 

“I guess.” You make it clear that you don’t actually mind. You point to one of the books. “That one? I guess everybody figured it out, but that was heavily inspired by that family.”

“So, was Harlan the basis for that King? The one who was dying and wanted to do that riddle/game challenge thing?”

“Obviously.” You shift, smoothing out your outfit. “Funny enough, looking at it now, Marta heavily inspired his ward. The one that saved herself all the heartbreak by not playing because she knew it would not go well.”

“Yeah, that’s almost prophetic. So, who was who?”

“You know I can’t go into specifics because of legal things. I will tell you that each individual competing for the crown was directly inspired by a family member. Well, actually, Joni’s husband was the one who married for love.”

“Oh, the one whose wife was just batshit?”

“See, I can’t answer that question. You can piece it together, though.” Colbert rolls back again.

“Okay, I have to ask this. You have two princes who are just awful. Which one is inspired by Ransom and which by that neo-nazi?” You snort at that, causing laughter to ripple through the audience. “Oh! That’s a way to get you to confirm things, by saying the rumors.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t want to make too many embarrassing noises.”

“But seriously, which one is which? The internet cannot decide for the life of them.”

You scrunch up your face as you think. “Hang on, I’m trying to figure out how to tell you without telling you.” Truth was, it was hard to tell without giving away what had happened to you. “If I say no one liked him that wouldn’t help narrow it down at all, would it?”

More laughter. “Well, you can think about it during the commercial break!” He rolls towards the TV. “We’ve got another writer coming up, Ransom Drysdale. So stick around to see that.”

The teleprompters fade, and the sign turns off, indicating that the commercials were happening. The audience begins talking amongst themselves. The mics are muted, so he can talk freely. You try to keep yourself calm.

“Seriously, which one is which?”

“The one that the outsider princess has an affair with.” You’re so glad Ransom hasn’t come out yet. “Do you want me to leave for this segment or…?”

“No, stay!” Colbert seems insistent on that idea. “So wait, did you and Ransom.” He pauses to wiggle his eyebrows. Your pause tells him everything. “Holy shit. Do you know how many people will go nuts if that gets out? Don’t worry. I was going to ask about that, but I’m not. I know you don’t want that getting out.” He leans across the desk. “Is his dick just as tiny as you would think?”

Thankfully, the director begins calling that the show is about to go live. You scoot over one seat. Colbert gets back into position.

“And we’re on air, folks!”

“Welcome back to the Late Show! We have a special guest with us, Ransom Drysdale!” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest when he comes out. He looks even better than you remember, and you hate yourself for thinking that. He shakes Colbert’s hand and takes a seat in the chair you vacated. You don’t miss the fact that some of the audience boos.

“So, Ransom. We brought you onto the show because we heard you’re writing a book.”

“I am.” He nods.

“A murder mystery?” He laughs at that, and you cross your legs. 

“No. It’s more of a political thriller. There are some murder mystery elements.” He runs his hands through his hair. 

“One of the things is there’s a supposed romance in there. It seemed very personal. Do you want to talk about it?” Ransom lets out a short laugh at that.

“I’ve had a lot of girlfriends. That doesn’t help me.” Colbert puts his hands on the table. 

“This one is based off of a fairly serious relationship, it seemed. One that the public didn’t know about.”

“Yes. It is.” 

“Well, give us something!”

“We kept it secret because of my family. They can be something else. I do regret keeping it that way because she deserved better.” A small chorus of ‘aawwws’ comes from the audience.

“Do you mean in the treat her better way or better than you?”

Ransom laughs at that. “The former.” You can tell he’s actively trying not to look at you. The conversation changes, and it’s not too long after that the show ends. 

The car ride back to your hotel is silent. You’re trying to work out how you’re feeling when you get a call. You answer it, not caring who it is.

“Hey.” Ransom’s voice sounds clear through the speaker.

“What do you want?” You try not to let tiredness seep into your voice.

“A lot of things. For you to come home, for starters.”

“I catch a flight out tomorrow to Texas.” None of your usual heat lies behind it.

“Do you like it there?” His questions throws you off for a second. 

“Why? Since when have you cared?”

“I need to know if I need to get a place out there.” He chuckles. “Don’t be surprised. Linda always has my back, and Richard feels so guilty about his affair that he would do anything to keep me happy. Doesn’t want his only son to hate him.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You look out the window as you speak.

“I told you.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Tell you what.” You don’t like his tone of voice. “We never finished our game. You win, I’ll leave you alone. I win, you come back, and you stay. For good.” His words leave no ambiguity. Despite yourself, you light up at the idea. 

“You know I play to win. And I will.” 

“Keep telling yourself that babe.” The call bleeps to let you know he’s hung up.

——————————————————————–

You make the mistake of checking Twitter the next day. People are buzzing about the interview, and it’s not in the way you wish. Most of it is about you and Ransom. You hate the speculation. He must have looked at you when he was talking about the secret relationship because so many people are talking about how you have to be the girl.

Some have the nerve to call it cute. Some wonder what you were thinking. Several say how they understand you keeping it a secret, which makes you smile. The reasoning was the same that you had at the time. The same reasoning you have now.

The ones that make you uncomfortable are the ones that hit too close to home. They talk about how it’s clear from your writings that you were raped, and almost all of them point out how uncomfortable you are doing that segment. Several outright say they think Ransom was the one who raped you. Some suggest Richard, which makes you sneer. You wouldn’t have put it past him to do something like that.

Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The source of dread calls you not too long after you wake up. 

“You signed an NDA.” Linda’s voice is furious. 

“I’m aware. I didn’t mention anything about that.” You rub your temples. It was too early for this. You hadn’t even had any caffeine yet. “I didn’t even hint.”

“People are talking.” She hisses.

“So what? People say all sorts of things. It’s not my fault.” You sigh. “Look, Linda. As much as I would love to see your son reap what he sowed, I also don’t want to deal with this. I don’t need everyone digging into my personal life.”

To your surprise, she lets out a sigh that mirrors your own. “I know that he’s a monster of my own creation, but I don’t want to see him hurt.” You have to bite down hard on your tongue.

“Well, you made sure I can’t do it.” You can’t help snipping back. 

“He loves you. Did you know that?” You’ve heard so many people tell you that, but it still takes you by surprise. “He was devastated when you left. He got worse, drinking all the time, becoming more of a brat.” 

“That’s his problem, not mine.”

“If you had been around, he wouldn’t have killed Fran.” That makes you pause. For a second, you think you see red. “You could have kept the will in the family, kept it from that Mexican bitch. He certainly wouldn’t have had to kill Fran.”

“Hold on just a fucking minute. You’re saying that I’m indirectly responsible for Fran’s murder?”

“No. You’re directly responsible.” You laugh at that, the sort of laugh that makes you sound unhinged.

“You’re fucking crazy. Crazier than Joni, and that says something. Lose my fucking number, Linda. Don’t even think about me. I’ll make your life a living fucking hell if you try anything. You fucking psychotic bitch.”

“Listen here, you ungr-”

You wish that flip phones were still a thing. That would have made hanging up on her more satisfying. 

“Jesus fuck you crazy ass motherfuckers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're all awful people, the end.
> 
> Also, I couldn't help Ransom throwing shade at Blanc. It was too good to pass up


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally have someone in your corner, and you open up to them.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS AHEAD!
> 
> This chapter contains discussion of a rape an events leading up to it. Please be aware of this if that's triggering to you. The rape itself is not depicted, but it still gets hairy

You shouldn’t be surprised when your office phone rings. Your cellphone had been ringing off the hook, so you turned it off. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you go over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Ah, good! I was hoping to catch you. Your phone seems to be off, and your voicemail is full.” Blanc’s drawl greets you.

“Yeah. I turned it off on purpose. It’s been bad since the Colbert interview.”

“I’d imagine so. I’ve certainly seen a good amount of speculation going around.” He lets out a noise that almost sounds like a laugh. “I was actually calling about that myself.”

“Alright. Shoot.”

“You neglected to mention that you and Ransom were in a relationship.” His tone is careful. You laugh, although it’s more derisive than anything else. 

“Relationship. Yeah, no. That’s not what it was. He wants to think that, but it wasn’t.”

“Did you know he could be violent?” The Inspector’s question throws you. You hold the receiver a little tighter.

“Yes.” You finally breathe out. “That’s... that’s why I left. I didn’t think he was capable of murder if that’s what you’re asking. But violence? Yes.”

Blanc lets out a thoughtful noise. “May I ask you a more sensitive question?”

“Sure. Whatever.” You run a hand over your face.

“Is he the one that raped you?”

The world seems to stop. Your heart rate picks up, and it suddenly feels like the world is closing in on you. How could he? How did he figure it out? You were careful, and you thought you’d be able to fool people. Apparently you weren’t as careful as you thought. Fuck. This was bad, this was so bad. The Thrombey family could ruin you. You never stated it explicitly, but you might have said enough that they could sue you and run you into the ground, and oh God, this was so fucked, you were so fucked.

The Inspector lets out a disappointed noise on the other end of the line. “I figured as much. I had a hunch when I saw that Ms. Thrombey had you sign certain documents. I was hoping it was just me seeing something that wasn’t there.”

“I- I can’t talk about it. I wan-”

“What can you tell me?” His voice is calm. “I know that it must be painful for you, but it would help. We can’t retry him for murder, but, well...”

“I- Blanc, I can’t. I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.” Your breathing is coming in short, shallow pants. 

“Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” His voice is soothing, and it helps. You suck in a deep breath. “I understand, as I said earlier, but I would like to know.”

“We...” You have to lick your suddenly dry lips. “I can’t tell you what happened then, but I might can tell you what happened. Before.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_You shove Ransom away as hard as you can. You’re furious, madder than you’ve been in a long time. Since the two of you started sleeping together regularly, your irritation with him was often tempered by the fact that you could work out your anger through sex. It helped that he had begun to be softer with you. Not where anyone could see because that’d be a dead giveaway. When the two of you had your moments alone, he was. It felt good, slowly peeling back the layers and getting a look at who the real Ransom was._

_“Fuck. Off.” You hiss. You’re pissed, and you know you’re going to cry later, but right now, you’re so mad you can’t. You won’t. He grabs your arm, grip bruising._

_“What did you think this was? Some sort of committed relationship?” He laughs at that. “You can’t seriously think someone like you could be allowed in our family.”_

_“No, I didn’t. I knew.” You want to slap him, claw him, anything to make him hurt. “But you can’t get pissed at me if I try to find someone who accepts me.”_

_“You don’t get it, do you you little fucking bitch?” His grip hurts, but you’re not going to say anything. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction. “You signed on to be mine the moment you walked in the door.”_

_“Oh, so I’m just supposed to be yours and get nothing out of it? That’s not how this fucking works!” You yank your arm from his grasp. The force makes him stumble backwards slightly. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you sleep with someone else, I really don’t But you can’t get pissy at me for doing the same fucking thing!” You want to tear your hair out. “You’re such a fucking little bitch of a hypocrite, Ransom!”  
“Oh, I’m the hypocrite?” He doesn’t chase after you as expected. Instead, he starts laughing. It’s the sort of laugh that indicates he’s about to lose his shit. “You’re the one who kept on going on about how you didn’t need anything from our family, and yet you leech off of us like everybody else!”_

_“Oh, I’m the leech? Really? Tell me more about that allowance you get. You know, because you haven’t worked a day in your goddamn life?”_  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I- We had a fight. It was bad, worse than our normal ones. He was upset because- Well, okay. I knew that we weren’t exclusive or anything like that. He ended up dating a model, and I’m not-” You let out a long and loud sigh. “I wasn’t about to be a side piece. So I broke things off with him. He got pissy, but nothing really happened other than him being more awful.”

“I ended up dating some guy I met through the family, and he. He lost his shit on me, got all possessive and weird. During that fight, that’s when he...” You can’t bring yourself to say the next part. Blanc saves you from saying anything, though.

“I see.” He lets out a sigh that mirrors your earlier one. “I am truly sorry that happened to you. May I ask why Linda had you sign an NDA?”

“I went to her. I thought she liked me, so I wanted to- fuck, anything that could have helped, and I was covered in bruises, and it was obvious that something had happened. I thought maybe she could get Ransom under control, but she tricked me. Had me sign it claiming that she’d take care of everything, that I didn’t need to worry about any of it. Fat fucking lot of good that did.” You want to cry so bad, but you don’t. If you start crying now, it won’t stop.

“Actually, it might have done some good.” You blink, confused at Benoit’s words. “I’ll have to have some friends look into it, but there might be a chance that it can get overturned. It is a long shot.”

“How? What can be done?”

“I’m sure somewhere there has to be a protection for people who were forced under duress to sign documents, such as yourself.” You can practically hear the gears in Blanc’s head turning as he works through a potential plan. “I can’t promise anything, but it is possible.”

“Please. Anything. Hell, if there’s ways that I can talk around it but still get enough out that it’s easy to put two and two together, I’ll do it.” You can’t help the excitement creeping into your voice. 

“I’ll see what I can do. But I must caution you, do not let anything get to them. This is a long shot at best, and I don’t want them to be prepared for something like this.” His words put a damper on some of your enthusiasm. Blanc does have a point; the Thrombey family are the sort of people that you can’t give them anything if you want to win against them.

“I promise, I won’t.” You stop, running your tongue over your lips. “I should probably tell you. Walt stopped by about a week ag, tried to intimidate me. And- Well, Ransom somehow found out where I live.”

“Jesus.” Benoit breathes. 

“I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t want to worry you, which I know is stupid.”

“This does complicate things.” He sounds angry, but you’re fairly certain it isn’t at you. “Have you received any other contact?”

“Linda called after the interview, wanting to remind me about what I signed.” You swallow. “She also basically said I was responsible for Fran’s murder, which was, you know, fun.’

“I swear...” Rustling comes from the other end of the line. “Anything else?”

You pause, thinking it over. A thought occurs to you.

“Yeah. Ransom has my main number and has been texting me.” You bite down on your lower lip briefly. “I- He challenged me. He wants to play another game, and if I win, he leaves me alone for good. If he wins, I come back.”

“Whatever would he want you to go back to them for?” The Inspector seems genuinely confused.

“Ransom said that he wants to marry me. When he came by that night.” The silence seems unbearable. Benoit is the first to speak. Well, he doesn’t speak. He starts laughing. It’s a pleased laugh, one that confuses you at first. That wasn’t the reaction you expected.

“And if he wins, you go back and marry him. Do I understand that correctly?”

“Yeah. What’s so funny?”

“Oh. I’m sure he has a set of rules that he expects you to play by, ones that he doesn’t have to follow.” He seems genuinely pleased. “The game is obviously rigged against you, but we may be able to unrig it.”

“How?”

“That is something we will have to figure out. But I do have a plan to start. We don’t play his game, we play a different one. Our main concern will be getting that disclosure agreement thrown out. Continue to give him a fight, as you would normally.” He pauses for a second. “How far are you willing to go to win?”

“For this? As far as I need.”

“I thought you might say so.” Blanc stops. “What I am about to ask of you is a lot, so if you feel you cannot do it, please tell me. I don’t want to have you come to harm.”

“What is it? What do you need me to do?”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After your conversation with Blanc, you head upstairs. You pick up your phone and stare at it for a second. 

“It’ll be worth it. It has to be worth it.” You hesitantly turn on your phone. While you wait for it to start, you go into your kitchen. You probably need to eat something. You grab a pack of crackers and rip into it. Your phone starts buzzing almost constantly, barely any time between notifications. You eat one cracker. The carbs should help settle your stomach.

Eventually, the buzzing stops, and you grab it. As predicted, you have multiple missed call notifications, several voicemails, and too many texts. You begin sifting through them, trying to see what might be helpful. The little neo-nazi shit must have leaked your number because most of the calls are from unknown numbers. The majority of the voicemails are straight-up vulgar, threats to your life and what they would do to you if they ever got their hands on you. You write down the numbers and a summary of the voicemail. The police department and Blanc could handle those.

As expected, you have several messages from the Thrombey family. Thank God you have a recorder near-by.

“Hey, girl! It’s Joni. Listen, I know we were never close when you were doing your internship, but I saw your interview on Colbert, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m always here for you if you need it. I don’t know, I just get the feeling something bad happened between you and Ransom, and I just want to apologize for not being there. So yeah, just give me a call back when you get a chance.”

“It’s Walt. I wanted to try to apologize again. If we had any idea of what Ransom had put you through, well... None of us could have known. Yeah, he was a little shit, but none of us thought that he’d hurt you like that. You just got to understand that he’s a fucked up kid. I mean, you’ve met Linda, you know what she’s like! He never stood a chance. So, try not to hold it against him or us.”  
“Hey girl, it’s Joni again! Listen, I just wanted to say I am so proud of you for telling Linda off like that. I mean, she is still fuming. Good for you for standing up for yourself!”

“It’s Richard, Ransom’s dad. I just want you to know that if you ever think about hurting my son, it will not be pretty. He loves you despite everything you did to him. You hurt him when you left, and I will not let you hurt him anymore. Not like Linda hurt me.”

“Richard just told me he called. I know I’m supposed to have lost your number, but I want you to know that I did not have anything to do with that. If he gives you more trouble, tell my lawyers. They’ll handle it. You’ll be helping both of us if you do that.”

“I just want you to know, you little slut, that this fa- Dad! What are you doing? I’m having a private conversation here! No, it’s not with my internet friends. No, I’m not trying to plan another rally! Jesus, just go! ....Oh, shit.”

One voicemail stood out to you.

“Hi. It’s Marta. I just wanted to see if you’re doing okay. I know what it’s like, dealing with them. If you need anything, let me know. I don’t want you to suffer because of them. When things aren’t overwhelming, please, let me know how you are.”

You drop your head to the kitchen counter. It was all still so much, but it was better than you expected it to be. Still, it felt like something bad was coming. You just couldn’t shake the feeling. One more voicemail remains. Hesitantly, you play it.

“Hey. I saw the little twerp let your number out. Don’t worry about him. I’ll have Linda take care of it. I’m glad you said something to her. I’ve never seen her so mad in a long while. Do you know how fucking happy that made me? I’m taking care of all the bullshit from my family. I don’t want you afraid to come home because of them.”

None of the texts are anything to note. Most of them are similar to the awful voicemails. Your list of things to send to the police is long. You take your recorder over to your computer, quickly downloading the voicemails and sending them to Blanc. Your email isn’t bad, thank God. You half expected that to be leaked as well.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

_“I’m not fucking playing around.” He’s got you backed up into a corner._

_“And neither am I. Spoiler alert, not everything is about you!” Ransom lets out a deranged laugh._

_“No, but this was. You can’t stand that we’re not exclusive, so you go back to your bitchy ways hoping to get my attention. Face it, what we had? Nothing. It didn’t mean a damn thing. But you caught feelings, and you’ve made yourself go and look like even more of an idiot.”_

_You can’t help it. Your hand comes up, and you backhand him with all of your strength. It takes him by surprise, and you use that to your advantage._

_“Listen, dickwad. I don’t want anything from you, and I don’t owe you anything. You act like you’re all high and mighty, but I’m the one who’s better. You’re just pissed because I’m way out of your league and found someone who is in mine!”_

_Ransom shoves you, hard. “I’m tired of your fucking mouth.” You expect a slap or something, but instead, he rips your shirt down the middle. “You’re mine, and I’ll fucking brand you if that’s what it takes to get you to remember.”_  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The next several days are relatively calm, given everything. It sets you on edge. You’re expecting something, anything. Yes, you are getting threatening calls, but the number dwindles as the police start paying visits to those people. They also have officers posted at your house, just in case someone decides to make good on those threats. You suspect they were mostly empty, though. Still, you’d rather be safe and have someone there in case things did go sideways. Joni tries to reach out to you again, as does Walt, but you don’t answer them.

You’re trying to figure out your next move when Ransom decides for you. You’ve saved the number that you assume is him in your phone, so you answer when you see it. You want to let it go to voicemail, but you want more to take him by surprise.

“Huh.” Ransom’s voice greets you. “Didn’t expect you to pick up.”

“I didn’t expect to pick up either.” You snipe back. “What do you want this time?”

“Look, the media is going fucking nuts on my end, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” You’re glad this conversation is over the phone so he can’t see you roll your eyes. “Seriously, these bastards aren’t letting up. They want to know what I did to you. Normally I’d just ignore it, but they are persistent fucks.”

“You’re only just now realizing this? And what does it have to do with me?”

“I’m getting there. God, you’re impatient.” He huffs, although it holds a note of amusement. “I had a thought as to how we could get them off our backs.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I.”

“God, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” He laughs at his joke before continuing. “Have dinner with me. Not a date or any shit like that. Just dinner.”

“What makes you think that it’ll help? It might make them go even crazier.”

“It might. I doubt it will, though. It’ll have to help you. People think you’re a stuck up bitch, and you going to dinner with me will show you’re not.”

“You’re really trying to sell it, huh.”

“Hey, if you want to deal with this shit show on your own, be my guest.” You can practically hear him holding his hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

You bite down on your lower lip. As much as you didn’t want to deal with him, the idea of getting some peace and quiet was very appealing. “How public of a place are we talking?”

“Not too public. Just enough that some media schmuck will see us, snap a couple photos, and then that’ll be that.” He sounds way too confident for your liking. You frown.

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch? I don’t do catches, sweetheart.” You can’t help the angry noise you make at the nickname, which makes Ransom laugh. Douchebag. “Okay, you do have to stay through the entire dinner with me. Dessert included. If it helps, this will also endear you to my family. They’ll think you’re coming to your senses, and they’ll leave you alone. As much as they can. Fuckers can’t seem to keep their nose in their own business.”

You take a moment to think the proposal over, trying to see if there’s anything that sets off too many red flags. Yeah, the whole thing itself was a giant red flag, but that was always how things were with Ransom.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a mostly pleasant chapter after that last one!

True to Ransom’s word, the calls and texts stop. Not just from his family; the threats dwindle significantly. You try to convince yourself it’s due to the police crackdown. Certainly, that had to have helped some. It makes you uncomfortable, knowing that Ransom delivered on his promise. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful, far from it. You were relieved to finally have some form of peace and quiet. It wasn’t entirely peaceful, but it was much better than it had been.

What makes you uncomfortable is that you owe him now.

Well, you don’t think you owe him, but you know him. You spent too much time around him and his family, so you can say for certain that he undoubtedly thinks that you owe him. You hadn’t considered that when he said he would take care of it; you just wanted the harassment to stop. You suspect that’s why he did it. Whether or not you actually had an obligation to him was not relevant. What was is that he thought you were indebted to him. 

You didn’t know what he had planned, but you knew that whatever and whenever he decided to collect, it was going to cost you. You could only pray that it wouldn’t cost you too much. If it did, hopefully it would only cost you in the short-term and not the long-term. That was the problem, though. Ransom had a way of figuring out the long-term effects. It was probably because of Harlan, but Ransom had a keen eye for predicting how things would play out and how to leverage the present so that he’d be in an even better position in the future. He had surprisingly good insights into the human psyche. Well, for the most part. Obviously, he was terrible when it came to accounting for basic kindness and selflessness.

The knowledge hangs over your head like a dark storm cloud. It was always present in the back of your mind that, despite all of your best attempts and years of dodging this, you finally owed him something. He could make absurd claims, but this was indisputable. You couldn’t get out of it without serious consequences. 

“I don’t like it.” Claire seems just as agitated as you feel. 

Her expression is one of complete and utter displeasure. “I don’t like it. I don’t trust him. This all screams bad news.”

“Don’t I know it.” You run a hand over your face. You can’t imagine how tired you have to look. 

“I’m not sure which part I hate more. The fact that he has something over you now, or the dinner. What were you thinking, accepting that?”

“Blanc thou-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thought.” The epithet makes you stop. Claire rarely swore, so it was always a bad sign when she did. “You know this can’t end well.”

“I mean, it’ll buy me time.” Your excuse sounds weak even to your ears. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” You blink. Claire leans across the kitchen island. She’s studying you intensely. “I’m not going to judge. Well, not too much.”

“You’re assuming I had feelings for him in the first place.” She gives you a look that makes you feel small. You don’t know why it does.

“Don’t. I know you. And that means I know when you’ve got feelings for someone.”She sighs. “I was hoping that you’d stop lying to yourself, but this... We can’t wait that long. Whether or not you still have a thing for him affects how this proceeds.”

You blink. A small frown makes its way onto your face. You had always blamed sleeping with him on the fact that you hated him. It was nothing more than hate sex in your mind. Claire’s words are deeply troubling. You couldn’t, right? Why would you? He was an arrogant prick, a douchebag of the highest magnitude. You’d only gotten mad at him when he was seeing that other girl because you refused to be the other woman.

The other woman.

You got mad because you didn’t want to be a side piece.

Why didn’t you want that? Was it self-respect? If it was about that, you wouldn’t have slept with him in the first place. If it wasn’t that, then...

“Oh, fuck.” You want to smash your head against the wall multiple times. You settle for letting your head hit the granite island with a loud thump. 

God. Fuck. How could you be such an idiot? How could you be in such denial that you didn’t see what was right in front of you? This was bad, this was so bad. Claire gives you a sympathetic look.

“We’ve all been there.” She points out, taking a sip of her coffee. “All of us have that one person. We know we should hate them, but we don’t.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is muffled by the countertop. “But this is fucking Ransom. Ransom douchebag McGee Drysdale. Out of all the people it could be, it had to be him.”

“If it’s any comfort, you’re probably not the only one.” Her tone indicates that it shouldn’t be of any comfort.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” You finally lift your head.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” She smiles softly at you, which makes her words seem a little less harsh.

You’re silent for a little bit longer. The longer you think it over, the more things fall into place. You don’t know whether you hate yourself more for actually falling in love with him or for the fact it took you so long to see it. You bite your lower lip as a thought occurs to you. If other people could see it, was that why the Thrombey’s always brought up that Ransom supposedly loved you? You knew it was meant to be manipulative, but you weren’t so sure how anymore. You had always assumed it was meant to make you feel like a bitch and take pity on him, but now... You aren’t sure.

“I hate this.” You aren’t speaking to anyone in particular. It just felt like it needed to be put out into the universe. Maybe it would decide that you had suffered enough. Certainly, you deserve pity. This was all too damn much. It was all too much, and you just wanted it to stop. You look up to see if Claire is going to give you sympathy. She just looks at you before taking a sip of her coffee.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You huff at your image in the mirror. For a moment, you’re tempted to go back and pull something out of your closet. Nothing seems to make you happy right now. None of your outfits are what you want. They look good, but when you put them on, they suddenly look awful. You don’t know why you’re putting this much effort into getting dressed. It’s not like you wanted to impress Ransom. You just wanted to look nice.

You study yourself in the mirror, worrying your lower lip in between your teeth as you think it over. Thank God you convinced him that you didn’t want to go back to that place so soon. It had taken a bit of negotiating, but you managed to get him to agree to a less swanky place. He grumbled about it, but you were happy with it. You snort.

“If I’m having this much trouble finding an outfit now...” You murmur to yourself, tugging at the hem of the dress. You hated it when you tried it on at first, but now, it was growing on you. It made you look like a sophisticated and high class pin up girl. You nod to yourself. Yes, this was the outfit, but your lingerie was wrong.

Eventually, you’re ready. Everything feels right. You found a wrap to go over the dress so you don’t look as loose as you could. 

“Remember.” You scold yourself in the mirror before heading out of your room. “This is for you; not for him.”

Harlan wasn’t home; he was on some sort of book tour. He went on less and less of them as years went on, but he still went on them. You had assumed that you would go with him as a part of your internship, but he decided he wanted you to stay. He claimed he needed a bunch of things done while he was away, but you had a suspicion he knew about you and Ransom. It probably didn’t matter how careful you were; Harlan had a way of figuring things out before everyone else.

If you were sure of what exactly you and Ransom were doing, you would have told Harlan. However, you had no idea. It wasn’t exactly fooling around, but the two of you weren’t dating each other either. It was a grey area, and you didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Besides, Ransom had an unexpected way of making it fun. 

“We have to sneak around. That’s just a given with my family. Linda will freak out.” The conversation with Ransom came in one of the few moments you had alone together after that night. Someone thought that they did indeed have the rights to a movie, so both you and Harlan had to clean that mess up. Walt claimed no knowledge of the whole thing. You couldn’t claim bullshit in front of him yet, but Harlan did. If Walt weren’t such a nuisance sometimes, you would have felt sorry for him.

“I’m sure.” You take a bite out of your bagel. Mornings were usually when the two of you had some alone time, since Harlan didn’t get up early. “She seems like she’ll freak out over anything.”

“You have no fucking idea.” Ransom lets out a derisive snort. 

“So, how do you plan to go about this?” You tease. Ransom gives you a look.

“The old man did make it a little easy for us. The place has so many secret entrances and exits and hiding spots. There’s a fucking bookshelf in the library that leads to a hidden passage.”

“Shut up.”

“Hand to God. The old housekeeper before Fran would get scared of the stupidest shit, so I would use that passage to get around really fast and scare her. She thought I was a demon child.”

“You are a demon child, Ransom.”

“Keep up that sweet talk, babe. I like it when you’re mean.” He winks at you, and you make a face at him, as if you’re resisting the urge to throw your bagel at him. You sell it by even looking between him and the bagel, and then back to him. He laughs, a surprisingly genuine sound. 

By the end of the second week, you knew so many different ways to get around the house. Ransom seemed to want to fuck you in as many secret spots as possible. He always claimed it was because his family would freak if they found out, but you suspect he enjoyed the mystery it added. 

Your personal favorite was when you found one of the few spots he hadn’t. In the hidden passage behind the bookshelf, there was another hidden passage. You guess Ransom assumed that it went nowhere. Off the second hidden passage was a third one. It ended at a one-way panel of glass. You realized it was a mirror in one of the hallways. By accident, you found the switch that opened it. The mirror didn’t go all the way down to the floor, so you did have to bend and twist like a contortionist to get out from behind it, but you could. 

Harlan was out at a doctor’s appointment, so you and Ransom took advantage of the situation. He had given you a challenge to scare him by using your knowledge of the house. You waited for him. As predicted, he stopped by the mirror to check his appearance. His face when he saw your upper body bending out from behind the mirror, as if you were crawling out of the glass towards him, was priceless.

You make your way downstairs, carrying your heels with you. You put them on right before you step outside. As expected, Ransom’s car is in the driveway. As you approach the car, he lowers the driver’s side window. He looks at you over the top of his Gucci aviators, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. You try to ignore the way your stomach pleasantly curls. 

“Get in.” He nods towards the passenger side. You make your way over and slip inside the car. As soon as you're in, he starts the car and wastes no time speeding off, gravel flying out from under the car’s wheels. He keeps looking over at you, and you’re not surprised when he places one hand on your inner thigh.

“God, you look...” He inhales sharply. “Fuck.” He suddenly sharply turns the wheel, turning quickly before flooring it. You know enough about him to not be surprised; he could change his plans at the drop of a hat. In the long run, he was an amazing planner, but he was also often a slave to his whims. 

“Do I get to know what the change in plans is?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah. Fuck dinner. I’m going to have my dessert first.” His hand squeezes your thigh, and your legs fall apart of their own accord.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without the distraction of the Thrombey family, you get a lot of work done on your new project. It gives you purpose, something to work on while you try to figure out what you’re going to do about this whole situation. It also helps you process the revelation from the other day. Well, come to terms with it in a more healthy way. This is something that will take you a long time to truly process.

It’s hard for you to fall asleep. Your brain is almost constantly buzzing. You would think that doing, creating things, would help you, but it doesn’t this time. It just makes you want to work nonstop. Work until whatever this is gets itself out of your system. You aren’t sure if it’s a nervous kind of energy or something entirely different.

Apparently, Ransom is haunted by something as well. You’re sitting on your porch, just like you were when he showed up uninvited that night. It’s towards the end of summer now. The air holds the warmth from earlier in the day, but it’s less oppressive. You can feel some of the coming cool air mixing with the current breeze as the night grows darker and darker. The crickets chirps, and distant animals make noises that cause your body to slowly relax. You can feel tension seeping out of you. 

You hear a car coming down your gravel road just as you see the lights begin to come through the trees. The tension comes back just as easily as it left, shoulders rising and spine going rigid. Your dogs start baying as they run around to the front where you are. You frown, jaw clenching. 

You couldn’t have a damn moment of peace, could you?

Slowly, you rise to your feet. The noise of gravel flying out from under tires gets louder, and the lights become brighter. You make your way over to the gate, the dogs following at your heels. Your suspicions are confirmed by them, given the two of them are staying close to you as opposed to bounding ahead of you.

This time, Ransom doesn’t blind you with the lights of his car. He doesn’t stand in front of it but to the side so you can see him. Something feels off. Even when the two of you were getting along, he would still go out of his way to be a dick more often than not. He claimed it was because you made the funniest expressions when you got angry. You watch the way he walks towards you. His gait hasn’t changed, and he’s holding himself steady, so he hasn’t been drinking. Well, as far as you can tell from just looking at him. He might have drank something, and it just hasn’t hit him yet.

He says your name. You look him in the eye. One of his hands rests on the gate, holding the top bar in a light grip. It’s difficult to make out his expression, but something about it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s too similar to the first night. Your heart starts beating faster, wanting to burst out of your chest. You have to remind yourself of what Blanc said. This wasn’t the game you were focusing on it; you were more concerned with taking them by surprise. That’s how you’d win.

“What do you want, Ransom?”

“World peace. A decent cup of coffee. An end to famine and hunger. The usual.” He feigns a casual shrug.

“Yes. Philanthropist is the first thing I think of when I think of you.”

“Actually, you should.” His serious tone takes you by surprise. “I finally got around to watching that movie of yours. I liked it. I’m going to extend an olive branch to the family and have them come over to my place to see it.” The laugh is evident in his voice. “I’m not sure who’s going to flip more. It’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m glad to know you’ll use my life’s work to torture your family.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. Besides, you know you’d want to be a fly on the wall for that.” Ransom reaches into one of his pockets. “I liked it enough to write a check. Not to your non-profit because I know you’d tear it up, even if it would help people. Wrote it to the Battered Women’s Justice Project. It’ll make the news by tomorrow.”

Your brow furrows. “Why? You’ve never felt the need to give before.”

“I had a realization the other night.” He sounds far too casual for your liking. His fingers drum against the wrought-iron, making a hollow, metallic noise ring out through the night. “People don’t trust easily again. And you trust even less than most people because of all the shit you’ve been through. I just thought you were natural damaged goods for the longest time, and that’s what was causing it. Like a bruised pear. When I did a little bit of digging, I figured out that the damage didn’t come naturally. It’s more like someone dropped a bag of pears on the ground and jumped on them.”

“I’m flattered with this analogy.” He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell from his posture he rolled his eyes.

“People don’t trust until they get a guarantee of change, right? At least, that’s what that stupid shrink said.” The metallic noise gets a little louder. “So, I made a peace offering. That donation was made in your honor when someone asks.”

You aren’t sure how to respond. On the one hand, this move was awful because of the intention behind it. He didn’t truly want to help; he was just manipulating you with it, trying to show he had changed. On the other hand, it did go to a good cause. A cause that was incredibly important to you. “Why tell me?”

“I want you to know I’m putting in the effort.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can change, baby, if you’ll just give me a chance.”

That makes you snort. Even when being sincere, he had to ruin the moment by being a sarcastic dick. 

“I am actually trying.” His tone shifts to serious again, and it makes your head spin. You don’t know what is happening, but it feels like a dream. “I didn’t realize that I hurt you that bad until I saw your work. Helped me see things from your perspective.”

“How do I know you’re not lying? That you’re not trying to mess with me?” You cross your arms over your chest. He tips his head back and laughs, although it’s a mocking laugh.

“Yeah. Don’t know why I’m surprised by this.” His gaze goes back to you. “I know one thing isn’t going to convince you, but hey, it’s better than nothing. Even you have to admit that.” His voice softens. “I really do miss you.”

“I’m sure you do.” You wrap your arms around yourself. You wanted this to be over. The tone of the conversation kept on changing so much, so you didn’t feel like you had any stable ground to stand on. 

“Do you remember that weekend where Harlan was out of town? We went to my place, and you ended up spending the weekend?” You jerk your head up to look at him, eyes narrowing. That was one of the last things you expected him to bring up right now. Of course, you should have counted on it. He seemed to know what to do to make you wonder about things that could have been. “That morning, I remember seeing you when I first woke up. You were so gorgeous laying there, sun shining on you. I’ve never seen you as vulnerable as I did then.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Your voice goes steely. You know what he’s doing, knows how he’s playing to your emotions. 

“What?” He snorts. “You’re going to get pissy over that? It’s not like it was some sort of emotional moment.”

“Maybe not, but I know you’ll try to make it seem that way.” You resist the urge to grind your teeth together.

“I wasn’t. It was just an observation. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d talk about how fun it was,watching your expressions when I woke you up.”

“Ransom.”

“Seriously, I’ve had girls wake me up with oral, so I knew it was a nice way to wake up. But watching your face?”

“Ransom. Leave.”

“I knew I had you hooked after that. The way you kept on saying my name.”

“Go. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Was that the first time I got you to call me Daddy? I honestly don’t remember.”

“Just fucking go!” You don’t realize that you’re screaming until that moment. He stops. You have no doubt he’s got a smirk on his face.

“Get the fuck out of here, Ransom.” You try to calm your breathing. You don’t know why you’re so worked up over this. “I’m not doing this tonight. I’m not in the mood. So just fucking leave.”

To your surprise, he steps away from the gate. You can tell he’s figured out something. The gravel crunching under his feet is the only thing you hear. 

“You’ll get a call tomorrow, I’m sure.” He talks as if that moment hadn’t just happened. “Go ahead and figure out what you want to say. They’ll want to know what you did to get me to be a generous human for once.” His tires squeal as they search for traction, and he’s gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seems to be less and less in your control. It doesn't help Ransom seems to have changed for the better.

The fan rotates slowly, the shadows of the blades lagging behind them. You don’t know how long you’ve been laying on the floor, watching the blades spin. True to his words, Ransom had made a donation, and you did get a call from the organization the next morning. You told them that you were grateful he made the donation in your name. You said it meant a lot to you, and that you were confident they would do amazing things with the money. All of which were true statements. None of what you said to them was a lie. They were partial truths, though. You kept most of how you felt about it to yourself.

You were grateful he made the donation in your name, but you wished he hadn’t done it to try and manipulate you. It did mean a lot to you that he found such generosity in his cold, dead, rich frat boy heart; you just wish it hadn’t come at your expense. The only thing that wasn’t a partial truth was that you were confident they would do amazing things with the money. That was a fact. Still, even that felt wrong with the knowledge of why he did it. It tainted a good gesture. 

You let out a long breath. You probably should get up and do something, maybe take a shower or eat. Something to make this gross feeling go away. Not that it could ever go away completely; all you could do was make it feel less icky. Slowly, you slide your forearms down so they rest by your ribs. You push upwards onto your elbows . You stay like that for a moment before pushing yourself up to sitting. It takes you another moment to get to your feet. You stand there for several seconds and then stumble to the shower.

You feel moderately better once you’ve showered. That good feeling increases once you eat. As you munch on your food, you open your laptop and scroll through the news. You let out a snort. Sure, the donation was in your name, but all the headlines talked about how Ransom was the one who made it. They’re all variations of how he made the donation to the charity in someone else’s name. Your name doesn’t appear, and you’re not sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

One catches your eye. You let out a soft noise at that. 

“Accused Murderer Ransom makes donation... Is it for love or for gain???”

Who would have thought that TMZ would be the closest to the truth. You click the link. Part of you wants to claim you did it out of sheer boredom, but another part of you would willingly admit it’s out of curiosity. You’re expecting something completely stupid. To your surprise, it’s not entirely awful. The outlet did mention you in the article, and they do a short summary of the Colbert report. Namely, all of the speculation after the show. It’s absurd to read all the things that people are suggesting, but it makes you feel a little better.

You do notice that some of the speculation is about how Linda treated you. A small frown makes its way onto your face. You hesitate, cursor hovering over the link. Eventually, your curiosity wins out, and you click it. It’s nothing too bad. The majority of it is suggesting that Linda made Ransom make the donation. That makes you snort. She had no control over her son, despite how much she wanted to believe she did. You scroll through idly. One comment makes you pause.

Jerry writes: I’m surprised Linda didn’t take this woman under her wing! They both are clearly ruthless and don’t care who they harm.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
You hated it when Linda and her husband came to visit Harlan. He never vocalized it, but you suspected that the writer felt the same way. Inevitably, a fight would break out between the real estate agent and her husband. You’ve lost track of how many times Linda has told you, in a drunken stupor, to never marry for love. Oddly enough, the person you felt the most sorry for was Harlan. Linda was a monster of his own creation. What made that fact even worse was that he was only just beginning to realize it. Sometimes, you could see the look on his face when Linda did something unpleasant, and it always broke your heart. It was clear to you he was trying to piece it all together and figure out where he went wrong. What he had done to make her act that way. 

The older Drysdales are supposed to come by tomorrow. You and Harlan are working on the deck, enjoying the sunlight. It’s a tradition of sorts for the two of you to work together before the Drysdales come over to the house. Harlan claimed it was because he knows he won’t be able to give you any instructions while he’s entertaining, but you both know it’s more than that. Harlan needs stability and clarity before diving into the fray with his children. 

Harlan says your name. You look up from the crossword puzzle you’re doing in the newspaper. 

“I have a favor to ask of you.” He’s giving you a serious look. You stiffen for a second, but then you see the mischievous glitter he’s trying so hard to hide. Whatever he wants to ask for you is important, but that look also tells you that whatever he’s about to ask is something that will drive someone else crazy. 

“Sure thing. What is it?”

“Please don’t let Linda know about your trysts with Ransom. I would ask that the two of you not have any dalliances while they’re here to be on the safe side.” Harlan seems far too amused for your liking. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. You look at him, eyes wide. That’s what breaks him, and he starts laughing. It takes a second, but you start laughing too.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Harlan arches an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Guess who’s idea it was to sneak around.” You respond.

“Oh, Ransom’s.” The older man scoffs. “You respect me too much to think of hiding it on your own. Ransom, on the other hand.... The little shit would see keeping it from me as a challenge.” You nod as you lean back in your chair. It’s a perfect assessment. 

“Would Linda flip out as much as Ransom says she will?” You have to ask. You think you’ll get a better picture from Harlan.

“Most likely.” He fixes you with a stare. “Had you planned on telling her?” That question makes you pause. You hadn’t immediately, but you did want her to know if this became a long-term and serious thing.

“Not at this moment, no.” You finally answer. “I don’t know it will ever reach the point where I want to tell her, but...”

“You want her to like you.” You hate how easily Harlan can figure out your motivations, ones that you weren’t even aware of yourself sometimes. 

“I think I do.” You pick up your mug and take a sip. “Is that bad?”

“No. It’s endearing in your case.” Harlan lets out a pained noise. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe she’ll ever like you.” 

You straighten up. It sounds like he’s about to say something important. “Why is that?”

“I tell you this so that you know to prepare yourself.” His tone is entirely serious. “My children can be ruthless, and I want you to be prepared for anything they might do.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Your phone rings. You pick it up without looking at who it is. If you look at the caller ID, you might not answer. Highly likely actually. The person on the other says your name in a southern drawl, and you smile.

“Inspector Blanc.”

“Were you aware he planned on making this donation?” Blanc wastes no time in getting to the reason behind his call. 

“Not until last night.” You answer honestly. “He told me last night after he’d already done it.”

The man on the other end lets out an exasperated noise. You just hope it’s not at you. “Well, that makes things on our end a little more difficult. If it seems as if he has changed, it will be harder to get a favorable judge. Not impossible, but much harder.”

“He did it to try and win me over. He told me as much.” You rub your face with your free hand. “I fucking hate this. I really hate it. It feels like it will never end.”

“As do I.” The Inspector sounds just as tired as you feel. His voice does hold a note of determination, though. “But before you give up entirely, I do have some good news. I managed to track down a friend who can help.”

“A friend?” You echo. “What kind of friend?”

“A lawyer I helped with a particularly difficult case. He offered to take a look at your case as soon as I mentioned the involved parties. It would seem the Thrombey’s have made quite a number of people angry.” Benoit lets out a chuckle at that. You can’t help your own snort of laughter. 

“That does make me feel better.” You push your empty plate away from you, a smile being to grace your face. “So, what do I do now?”

“He will want to speak with you. I gave him your number. I assumed that you would be alright with that.” You let out another snort at Blanc’s understatement. He lets out a knowning noise in response. “I thought as much. He is currently working on a rather large case, but as soon as he can, he will give you a call.”

A thought occurs to you. “Should I go ahead and get a copy of the paperwork? They might get suspicious if an outside lawyer starts poking around.”

“That is a good idea.” Blanc sounds as if he’s considering something. “Go ahead and collect as much as you can. I will keep you apprised of anything on my end.” He says goodbye, and you do the same. You take your plate over to the sink before beginning work.

First, you make a call to one of your lawyers. You don’t explain to her what is going on, just that you wanted a copy of the agreement to review. She’s more than happy to help you out with that, although she does cation you it might take a bit before it gets released. You reassure her that’s not a problem. Next, you begin figuring out what you want to say to Blanc’s friend when he calls. You want to tell him as much as possible, but you aren’t sure what you can and can’t say. You take a napkin and make notes to yourself. Writing your problem out has helped you more than once. 

The phone rings once more once you finish writing out the gist of what you want to say. This time, you do check who it is. You sigh loudly before answering it.

“Ransom.” You keep your voice neutral. You aren’t sure what he’s got up his sleeve this time, or how this conversation will go. He says your name in response, a clear mockery of your tone. You huff. He laughs in response. “Why are you calling this time?”

“You know that favor I want?” Your brow wrinkles as you think.

“Knowing you, there are a lot of things that you think are favors.” You ultimately respond. You can hear the slap as he rests his hand over his heart.

“You wound me.” His tone is too mirthful for him to actually be mad. “That dinner date. The one I get because I called my family off?”

Oh. Yes.

That favor.

“Yeah.” You rub your temples. “I assume you’re calling it in now?”

“Yup.” He pops the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “We’re going tonight.”

Your eyes widen ever-so-slightly at that. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. That should give you time to do whatever it is you girls do.” He sounds so dismissive. You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at him. He clearly has no idea how much time getting ready to go out to the store meant, let alone getting ready to go out for something big. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” You respond dryly. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to live up to your expectations only given... What time are we going?”

“I’ll be by your place at 8.” You can hear him moving about a room. “Ten hours should be more than enough.”

“You’re assuming I don’t have a lot of other things to do.”

You can practically hear him waving your excuses away. “You’re a writer and an artist. You’ve got time. Grandpa always talked about how busy he was, yet he never did shit.”

“Huh.” You can’t help the noise that escapes you. The noise on the other end of the line ceases.

“Huh what?” His tone is curious yet also dangerous, as if he hadn’t decided if you’d just said the wrong thing or not.

“Oh, it-”

“If you tell me it’s nothing, I swear.” He doesn’t have to finish the threat. You let out a sigh.

“That was just the first time you’ve mentioned Harlan.” You cringe. You’re expecting him to yell or scream, something violent. Instead, nothing. Silence on his end for a few seconds before you hear a ‘huh’ identical to the one you just said.

“Yeah. Guess I hadn’t.” His tone is genuinely thoughtful. You can practically hear the thoughts mulling around inside of his head. “Speaking of Grandpa, I have a question for you.”

“Alright.” You can’t help the hesitancy that makes its way into your voice. Ransom lets out a soft chuckle.

“Nothing bad. I’m just... curious is all. Did he ever tell you that he planned on giving the publishing company to you at one point?”

Well. That was a question you had been hoping to avoid. You run a hand down your face and stare at your fridge for several seconds. You hope that he’ll take his answer from that and let you off the hook. You also know better than to expect any kind of mercy from him.

“We... talked about it.” You finally said. “It was only ever theoretical as I understood it.”

“Sounded pretty damn real when Walt went on a rant about it.” His tone has an undertone of glee to it. “Serves him right. He never did deserve the company anyway.” A tinge of bitterness creeps into his tone. “Honestly, once Grandpa realized what a shit show it was under Walt, I thought he was going to give it to me. Should have. Maybe we’d still have something left after his death instead of it all going to that fucking bitch.”

“Marta has done fairly well with it from what I’ve seen.” You can’t help the jab. “I’ve been meaning to invest some stock in it.”

“Careful there. Start talking like that, and people are going to say you’re sounding like me.” His tone is teasing on the surface. It’s easy to pick out the underlying anger in his words. You snort.

“According to Walt, I apparently already do.” You don’t mean for that to slip out. Ransom lets out a small noise at that, one you can’t place.

“He told me he went by your work a couple weeks ago.” His tone shifts to conversational. It’s hard to tell whether or not you should put your guard up for this next part. “Told me that I’d be real proud of what I turned you into.”

“What you turned me into?” Both of your eyebrows shoot into your hairline. “What does that even mean?”

“Apparently I turned you into a massive bitch. He was saying that as soon as you got your internship, though.” You can practically hear the eye roll. “He’s a paranoid fuck, constantly worried that someone is going to take his shit. Shit that he hasn’t earned.” A small peal of laughter escapes you at that. It was true; Walt didn’t deserve a damn thing that he got from Harlan. Neither did the rest of the family as far you were concerned, but especially Walt. “I heard him say something else too.”

Your heart sinks at that. “I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.”

“He said he thought that we’d be perfect for each other.” Ransom’s tone is matter-of-fact. 

“That could mean a lot coming from him. It might mean he thinks I’m capable of murder.” You respond. You’re starting to get more and more uncomfortable as this topic of discussion goes on. You pad silently over to your fridge.

“Oh, you are.” That makes you stop dead in your tracks. His tone is so dismissive. “You like to pretend you’re better than us. Well, better than me. But if it came down to it, you’d kill someone for what you think is yours.” You can hear the smirk make its way into his voice. “I talked to...Laurel? I think that was her.”

“Laurel?” You try to keep your voice calm and collected.

“Uh-huh.” The malicious glee is clear in his voice. “That girl I brought home? The one that made you jealous?”

“She did not make me jealous.” You snap. “She made me realize that I was worth more than I was being treated.”

‘Sure. Whatever you say.” He scoffs. “You’re acting like you didn’t lay into her. A fucking Rottweiler with a fresh bone was nicer than you were with her.”

“She started it.” You can’t help how heated your voice gets. “If you heard me talking to her, then you also heard what she said to me.”

“Oh, I’m not denying she took it too far. You were a hick and arrogant bitch. Still are. But her whole schtick about fucking the whole family to get the internship was way too far.” His tone hardens somewhat at that last part. 

“And I told her how wrong she was.” You try to keep your tone even and light. That whole thing still made you mad. 

“She refused to talk to me for a whole month after you ‘told her how wrong she was’. She refused to have anything to do with me until you left.” Ransom’s tone is surprisingly serious. You can feel your heart plummet. Yes, you had been a little harsher than necessary with her, but you hadn’t gone that far. Had you? You weren’t so sure now. 

“I-” You close your mouth. The longer you thought about it, the less you had a leg to stand on. You had been awful to her.

“Don’t sound like you didn’t enjoy it.” Again, you can hear the eye roll. “She got what was coming. You saved me the trouble of breaking up with her.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Your grip on your phone grows tighter. 

“Fine. We won’t.” He huffs, clearly annoyed with that. “But it does back Walt up. For once in his life.”

“I’m not proud of the person I was then.” You hope he takes the hint to drop the topic. Mentally, you make a note to find Laurel and apologize. 

“Why? Walt, Richard, Linda, and Joni are like a pack of angry wolves when they get together. You managed to come out on top. That’s something to be proud of.” 

“No, it’s not! Why would I be proud of being terrible?”

“Because.” Ransom’s voice is surprisingly serious. “When you came in, no one thought you’d make it. Joni and Meg kept on talking about how worried they were for you.”

“I’m sure it was with glee in their voices.” You huff. That earns you a laugh.

“Yup. They’re annoying hypocritical feminists. ‘Women should uplift other women’ bullshit and then tear apart what someone else is wearing in the same fucking breath.” He seems a little more amused. “But you were supposed to be some scared little rabbit, and you weren’t. It was like watching a pack of wolves fight a lion.” Another laugh. “Guess what Walt calls you.”

“Nothing flattering, I’m sure.”

“He calls you Lady MacBeth.” The man on the other line seems entirely too amused with your nickname. “It’s hysterical when he does it.”

You’re silent. This conversation has given you a lot to think about already, and that nickname adds one more thing. You thought that you had done a good evaluation of who you were as a person and how you needed to change, but you clearly hadn’t. You frown. You can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you have to close them to prevent yourself from bawling. Ransom says your name. His voice is surprisingly gentle.

“Listen. They’re just jealous bitches. Don’t put any stock in what they say.” He seems genuinely worried that you might be upset by this. “They don’t know how to handle someone they can’t buy. You did what you had to do. That’s just how you have to be in that environment.” He pauses for a minute. “The prison shrink kept on telling me that I’m not a terrible person at heart. It was just how I was raised, and that I could change. I’m sure the same thing applies here.”

“I don’t have the excuse of being raised that way.” Your voice comes out softer than you want. “I let myself get swept away in all of it.”

“You did.” You roll your eyes at his tone. “But we’ll figure something out to keep that from happening. I’d be fine if we don’t see them.”

“We?” You can’t help echoing. 

“Yeah. I told you, I’m working on changing for you.”

“You’re assuming I want you like that.” You roll your eyes, trying to keep your irritation at bay. 

“You do.” He sounds so confident in himself. “If I had gotten down on one knee back then, you would have said yes.”

“Hah. No. And even if I had, that was then. Things are different now.”

“Not that different. What we had for each other isn’t something that goes away like that.” He seems too pleased with himself. “The biggest change is that my family managed to scare you off.”

Well. That was true. They did manage to get under your skin and make you run. However, he was conveniently forgetting that he was part of the reason you left as well. You’re just about to open your mouth and tell him that when he speaks again.

“Look. You can be scared of them. I don’t care. I just don’t want you to be so scared of them you push me out of your life because of it. I’m not them. If having you in my life means that I don’t talk to them, that’s fine by me. And I know it will be a bit before you’ll let me back into your life, but I can wait.”

You frown deeply. You hate it when he gets soft and sweet; you know he’s just using his charms to make you feel better. It’s all a game to him. It also bothers you because he seems to know how much you want to believe him. You do honestly want to believe him. His soft tone makes you think of a different life, one where the two of you could have been happy. It makes you think of that tender morning together, and how you wanted more moments like that with him.

“We can talk about it more at dinner.” He seems to sense your hesitation. “I’m getting you at 8. You don’t have to go full fancy, but nice.”

The phone beeps, letting you know he’s hung up on you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a couple things. So, yes, this is the end of this fic. However, it's not the end of the story. I'm making a series out of this!

A loud honk nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You roll your eyes when you realize who it is before checking the clock. Ransom is only 10 minutes late, which is odd for him. You expected to have at least another 20 minutes. You huff a sigh and get your shoes. Thank God you made it a point to get ready well in advance. He honks again, and you have to resist the urge to flip the bird. Instead, you silently slip on your shoes and grab your keys and purse before leaving. You take your time locking your door to piss him off. It’s petty, but it makes you feel better. You slide into the passenger’s seat once you get to the car.

“Took you long enough.” Ransom huffs, irritation bleeding into his voice.

“You’re never on time. I thought I had at least an hour more to get ready.” You counter as you buckle your seatbelt. His jaw clenches, and he speeds out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You look at him. You refuse to look at the road because you’ll get sick from how fast he’s driving.

“Does it matter?” He raises an eyebrow. “We both know how this goes. I tell you, and you judge it based on the fact I want to go there. I could say I wanted to go to fucking some dinky little bar that seems right up your alley, and you’d hate it because I suggested it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you stop. You frown. You can feel him watching you out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” You let out a long sigh, looking out the window briefly. The speed at which the shrubs pass makes your stomach churn, so you look at your feet. You stretch your legs out as much as you can. He actually turns to look at you for the briefest moment.

“Have nothing to say?” He asks as if he’s not trying to rile you up. “Can’t handle the truth?”

You let out an elegant snort at that. “No. I always have plenty to say.”

“You can say that again.” Ransom interjects before you can finish your thought. You glare at him, and he laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh but a genuinely amused one.

“I want to enjoy myself.” You reply tartly. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t bullshit me.” His response is instantaneous. “You don’t give up that easily.”

“What do you want from me, Ransom?” You let out another sigh, this one more frustrated. “You don’t like it when I’m honest with you, but you get weird when I play nice. So what am I supposed to do?”

He lets out a laugh, this one is more derisive. “I’ve told you what I want. I want for you to come home.”

“That place may be your home, but it’s not mine.” You try not to slump in your seat. His jaw ticks, and without warning, he’s spinning the wheel sharply and taking you down a small side road. Nothing much is on that road, just an old farmhouse. Your hand instantly goes to the door’s handle. He stops under a small grove of trees.

“Ransom-” You begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“I have been patient with your bullshit. I really have. Do you know how many weeks I’ve spent here in Texas? Because of you and your stupid need to be independent?” Ransom turns to you. Fury is written all over his face. “Do you know all the shit I’ve done for you? And are you grateful?”

“I never asked for you to do any of it!” You snap. “All I asked was for you to leave me alone! Don’t you get it? I don’t want anything from you!”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.” He’s practically snarling at this point. “You applied to that stupid internship, you showed up to the house, and you wormed your way into my grandfather’s life. Don’t you ever fucking say you didn’t want anything from us!”

“First of all, I didn’t worm my way into Harlan’s life! He needed a friend because of how fucking awful you all are. Second of all, I didn’t do it to get anything from your family! I did it to get ahead. I couldn’t give less of a shit about your family, and if you honestly thi-”

Ransom lunges across the center console, and you’re half-expecting him to hit you. Instead, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a bruising kiss. It’s all teeth and unrestrained anger, and even though it’s harsh and messy and rough, you can sense something behind it. It almost feels like he’s missed you. You don’t think about that. You instead focus on the anger. You can handle him being angry, know what to do with him being angry. 

You expect yourself to pull away, but you surprise yourself. One of your hands goes to the back of his head, fingers threading through it. You bite down on his lower lip, hard. He lets out a hiss of pain but doesn’t pull away. The hand in your hair tightens, and he uses his grip to yank your head back. His eyes are lust-blown, but anger is still in his expression. Both of your hands go to his chest. You’re unsure if you’d push him away or pull him closer if he kissed you again. You can taste something metallic, and you realize you drew blood. Your tongue darts out to get any that might be on your lips.

“You’re so infuriating.” Ransom sounds equal parts pleased and pissed. You don’t miss the way his gaze keeps on going to your lips. The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. You know you should say something, push him away, do something other than just sit there and return his heated gaze. But you don’t. You wait for that feeling of revulsion and disgust to come up and make you do something, anything. 

Your phone ringing is what breaks the building tension. You swear loudly and grab it, checking to see who it is. It’s an unknown number. Not that it matters because Ransom turns the car back on and turns back towards the main road before you can get your phone back into your purse. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. It’s almost as if that never happened. You pull down the visor to make sure your make-up is fine and that no blood remains on your lips. The rest of the ride you try not to stew in your thoughts.

He pulls into the parking lot of a fancy steakhouse. You raise one eyebrow at him. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from him, but it wasn’t necessarily that. He merely shrugs in response.

“I heard they have good filet mignon.” He exits his car, and you follow. The two of you are late for the reservation, but they have a table for the two of you ready. You know the only reason they saved him a table was his family name. You see several people turn their heads, and you assume it’s because of Ransom. That is, until you hear your name whispered along with his. You have to fight to keep your expression neutral. 

The table is secluded. You do notice a couple places where curious people could potentially get photos. They remind you of why you’re doing this. It’s a publicity stunt, one to get people off of your back. Nothing more than that. As you scan the menu, you try not to look at the prices. It was an old habit. You aren’t sure why you decide to fight it today. You look up for a second to see that Ransom is staring intently at you.

“What?” You’re more than a little confused as to why he’s looking at you like that. Ransom smiles and shakes his head.

“Nothing.” You raise an eyebrow at that. 

“It’s never nothing with you.” You say pointedly. 

“I’ll tell you later.” He waves a hand. He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. “I want to ask you about something. Something from earlier.”

You raise both of your eyebrows at that. The drinks come to the table, and you thank the waitress quietly. 

‘Are you ready to order?” She asks. Both of you nod. She turns to Ransom first. He pushes away his menu.

“We’re both going to have filet mignon.” He rattles off the rest of the order, and you give him a look. It’s easy for you to tell that he’s amused by your reaction. The waitress scurries off with your orders. This time, you put your forearms on the table and lean across it.

“What the hell was that?” You try to keep your voice low. A smirk plays about his lips.

“Just saved us some time is all.” He seems far too amused about the situation. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. You can pick dessert.”

“That’s...That’s not what I want! I want to pick my own meal.” You hiss, trying your best to keep your voice down. Ransom eyes you with open amusement.

“Is this another indepence thing?” He rolls his eyes. “Just trust me.”

“You’ve never given me a reason to trust you before.” You glare at him. 

“This isn’t about the food, is it? I’m not a fancy detective like legally safe knock-off Sherlock, but I’m getting the impression there’s something more to this.” Ransom’s tone is cavalier. His expression is not. It’s dark and knowing. You realize he’s studying you to see if he gets a reaction out of you by mentioning Blanc. 

“How clever of you to notice.” You drawl in response. His eyes narrow slightly. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

“You wanted to ask me about something?” You decide to break the tension. He nods. It’s too easy for him to act like nothing has happened. 

“Yeah.” He props his head up with one of his hands. He looks genuinely curious. “You said that you and grandpa talked about you taking over the publishing company.” He pauses to take a sip from his drink. You know it’s just for dramatic effect. “But you did more than talk, didn’t you?”

You give him a look. “What are you angling at?”

“Okay, let me put it this way.” He leans forward. “I know Harlan was going to talk to you about taking over the publishing company. I want to know if he did, and if you were going to accept it.”

You stare at him blankly for a couple seconds. This feels like a trap. 

Ransom rolls his eyes and sighs. “It’s not that hard to answer. Were you going to accept the offer or not?” 

“I didn’t know he planned on offering me the entire company, but it wouldn’t have surprised me.” You eventually say. “All he offered me was a publishing deal. He talked about me eventually working for the publishing company, but... I assumed it was one of those far into the future deals.” You look down at your hands.

“Huh.” He leans back again, one arm slung over the back of his chair. He seems to be deep in thought.

“Do you want to tell me what this was about?” You finally ask.

“Walt found something one day while snooping around grandpa’s office. He made it sound like it was all but a done deal when he talked about it. Grandpa was apparently drafting up some sort of contract where you would take over the publishing company.”

You blink. That was news to you. “Knowing Harlan, it could have just been a way for him to get Walt to do something.” You hesitantly venture. 

“Maybe.” Ransom seems less than convinced. He frowns slightly.

“Can we talk about something else?” You don’t like the direction this conversation is going.

“Sure.” He seems to come back to himself. “What did my family do to make you that scared of them?”

“Something not related to your family.” You say pointedly. He lets out a small laugh.

“Alright. What do you want to talk about then?” He seems far too amused, but there’s an underlying edge to his tone. “We can always talk about the weather or some sport. Oh, or maybe how bad the ending of Game of Thrones was. That’s always a fun topic.”

“Oh, screw you!” You have to try really hard to keep your voice down. “Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about them?”

“Actually, yes. Yes I can. I have a lot of unanswered questions, ones that I deserve answers to, and you keep on trying to avoid answering them using the excuse that you don’t want to talk about my family.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “And what questions do you deserve answers to?” You can’t keep the mocking edge out of your tone.

“Why did you really leave? Don’t give me some excuse how it was because of me.” He seems to know what you were going to say in response. “You and I both know that you'd have stayed just to show me that you weren’t scared. So what made you leave.”

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. You look at him. To your surprise, Ransom looks as if he genuinely wants to know why you left.

“After what you did to me, I went to your mom.” You want to study your hands again, but you don’t. “I thought that maybe what you did to me could wrangle some sense into her. Maybe she could even finally get you on a leash. But,” You let out a sardonic laugh. “I severely underestimated her. She took the information to the rest of the family. I don’t know what happened at that family meeting, but I know that whatever happened turned your entire damn family against me. I suspect that they might have just been waiting for a moment like that.”

Silence reigns for several moments. To your surprise, you feel better. You thought that talking about it would make you feel worse, but you feel lighter now that it’s off your chest. You look to your dinner companion. His expression is unreadable.

“It’s not like it really matters in the long run.” You shrug. “Honestly, they did me a favor. Being hated by all of the Thrombeys but Harlan got me pretty damn far. So I should probably thank them.”

Ransom looks as if he might say something, but the waitress arrives with your food. You dig in as soon as she leaves, grateful for a distraction. It’s good. Not that you’re going to let him know that; you’re still pissed that he had the gall to order for you. Speaking of Ransom, he’s silent. Way too silent for your liking. You look at him. His expression is pensive, and he’s staring into space. You don’t like it.

“Ransom. You alright there?” You ask, giving him a pointed look. He looks up at you. Something unreadable is in his expression, but it’s gone quickly. 

“Yeah. Sorry.” He still seems distracted, lost in thought. He’s clearly working something over in his head, so you decide to eat. You clearly weren’t going to get anything out of him. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see him start to cut into his food. You’re not sure if you should be worried, if he was thinking about something that would lead to more trouble. After several minutes, Ransom seems to come back to himself. He starts antagonizing you, but it’s clearly playful. By the end of the dinner, things feel normal. Stable. It feels like it did before... everything. It makes you think of when the two of you were sneaking around that big Massachusetts's house.

The two of you are bickering over what you want for dessert when Ransom’s phone rings. He ignores it. You raise an eyebrow.

“Are you going to get that?” You point towards the offending object. He shrugs.

“They can eat shit. If it’s important, they’ll call me back.” Ransom looks back at you. “I’m not eating a fucking piece of cake with that stupid of a pun for a name.”

“Okay, but the pun is why I want to order it.” You huff. He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone rings again.

“Are you answering this time?” You ask. He makes a face as he grabs his phone. When he sees who it is, he seems somewhat amused. He slides the icon across the screen and answers.

“Ransom. What is it?” You don’t really pay attention. You’d only get one side of the conversation anyway. Not that Ransom says much. The person on the other line seems to be doing most of the talking. Ransom merely makes noises of understanding or agreement with an occasional verbal confirmation.

“Yeah. Of course. Yes. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Yes. Bye.” Ransom rolls his eyes as he hangs up. He’s clearly amused. “You’re not going to believe this shit.”

“Oh?”

“Did I ever tell you about Inspector Douchenozzle?” You let out an elegant snort at the name, despite the sinking feeling in your gut.

“No. I don’t think so.” You try to keep your tone casual. Ransom gives you a brilliant smile that’s a little too much teeth.

“You know how Marta stole my inheritance? Well, he’s the guy that helped her.” He launches into his story which, predictably, makes him the victim. You notice that he’s very careful to avoid mentioning Fran and his murder trial. It’s hard to keep up the charade of not knowing as he goes on with the tale. As he winds his story down, you mentally congratulate yourself on a job well done.

“I don’t know why I told you about him, since you know him.” Something wicked sparkles in Ransom’s eyes. Your heart rate skyrockets, and you try to keep your eyes from widening too much. How did he know? You might be able to salvage this, but it would take some doing. You have to try, though.

“I mean, I did read the New Yorker article on him.” You shrug. “The name is pretty distinctive, so I put two and two together.” He gives you a look as if you were a little kid he caught in a lie.

“Don’t play dumb.” He scoffs. The underlying edge to his tone makes your skin crawl. “I know you hired him.”

“For what? I have nothing to hire him for. I don’t have anyone I want him to investigate.” You counter. You hate this, hate how easily Ransom can make you feel out of your depth all of a sudden. You almost always manage to recover, but it bothers you every time it happens. It’s his turn to let out a noise of derision.

“That call was one of my lawyers.” The sinking feeling in your gut returns, even stronger this time. “He told me someone has been poking around, looking for anything that might prove I hurt you in some way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So? People on the internet are convinced, rightly so I might add, that you did hurt me. Probably is one of them.”

Ransom laughs and shakes his head in response. “You’re better at lying than you were, but you’re still terrible.” He positions himself square to you, forearms resting on the table. His trademark smirk is on his face, and you’ve never wanted to knock it off his face so bad. “It’s one of his friends who’s doing the looking. That, and they’re looking in very specific places. Ones they would only know to look if someone told them.”

You open your mouth to argue, point out that it could be coincidence, but he keeps on going. “Look. You can make all kinds of excuses and shit, but we both know that I’m right.”

“What do you want?” You give him an exasperated look. You’re not admitting defeat. That question is still reasonable given the conversation. It didn’t mean he’d won. He takes a long drink before answering your question.

“I wonder what would happen if I tipped off Linda. She’s probably got some sort of legal hold on you.” His tone is innocent, as if he’s thinking aloud. Your eyes narrow.

“Quit the shit.” You snap. “Save your theatrics for someone who cares.”

“Oh. That’s a lot of bite for someone with no leg to stand on.” He chuckles, a dark and low sound. “You know, I’m feeling like a generous son today. I think I will tell Linda what’s been going on.” He reaches for his phone. You want to think he’s bluffing, but you know him. He wouldn’t say something like that unless he was serious.

“Wait.” You can only hope to buy yourself some time. More time means that you can think of a way out of this. He pauses and arches an eyebrow. You let out a sigh of defeat. “What do you want?” You might be able to work around whatever he has planned, but you won’t know until you know what he wants.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Ransom sounds so pleased with himself. Your eyes narrow, and all you can think about is what it would feel like to break his jaw. “I want you to come home, and I want you to do it the right way.”

The right way? Your brow furrows at that. What could he possibly be talking about with that? He lets out a disappointed noise. He looks as if he’s about to tell you, but the waitress appears at that moment. Your appetite is long gone. Ransom’s, however, isn’t. He orders dessert. You can tell the smug bastard is having the time of his life watching you squirm. You close your eyes. Most likely, he won’t tell you until the two of you are in the car, so you don’t bother asking.

“Cheer up.” Ransom’s voice makes you open your eyes. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “The press is here.”

Your eyes fly open. Sure enough, you can see someone in one of the windows, taking photos of the two of you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. You sit up in your chair. You take several deep breaths. You can do this. You don’t know what the game is, but you can outplay him if you really try. When you open your eyes again, it’s as if the previous conversation had never happened. You’re the perfect picture of a woman enjoying her date. The thought makes your stomach churn, but you keep that off your face.

You have to keep up the act through dessert and until the two of you are in his car. Even then, you can’t drop the facade until he’s speeding down the road. You drop the act as soon as you know no one can see.

“Okay. What the fuck do you want, you goddamn fucking bastard?” You hiss. He laughs.

“That’s no way to speak to your future husband.” Ransom’s tone is entirely mocking. You give him a look.

“It’s the way to speak to the guy who’s ass I’m about to fucking kick.”

He falls silent for a moment. You can see his eyes briefly look into the mirror to make sure no one is following the two of you before he pulls to the side of the road. The seat groans as he shifts to face you.

“Here’s the deal.” He’s entirely serious. “We’re going to get married, or I let the whole family in on your plot. And no, we’re not doing some shotgun thing. We’re going to do it the right way. In a couple months, we’re going to make our relationship official. When I propose, you’re going to say yes. And you’re going to marry me whenever I decide it’s time. We’ll have to wait about a year after our engagement, but I think we can make it work.”

“I’ve stood up to your family before. I can do it again.” You challenge. You could. It would hurt like hell, and it’d be painful, but you could do it. Ransom chuckles.

“See, I knew you’d say something like that.” He shakes his head. “Luckily for you, I’m nothing if not charitable. You do this, and I’ll give you everything you need to get Linda into a world of trouble. Hell, I’ll throw in Richard too.”

Both of your eyebrows shoot into your hairline. “What are you talking about? Don’t you depend on them for all your money?”

He lets out a sardonic laugh. “Nope. They took a page from Grandpa. I’m out of their wills, and I get a monthly stipend. That’s it. The whole reason I’m writing a book is so I can actually have the things I want.”

“Let me guess.” You drawl. “You can get back into their will, but you have to show them you’ve grown up. By say, marrying someone or holding a job.”

“See? You get why I have to do this.” Ransom’s tone is sharp. He huffs a laugh. “We both get what we want out of this. I get my life back, and you get to stick it to my parents. Hell, you’ll probably get more out of it than I will.” He turns to face you. “I’m generous, so if you play along and make sure no one can suspect a thing, I can probably get you more. Like Walt’s new publishing company. I’ll get you anything you want if you actually sell it.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’ll get more out of it than just the money from your parents.” You let out a long breath. You’re not going to lie; that was an appealing offer. You begin working on the mental math, figuring things. You decide not to let him know that you’re still planning on how to get out of this. “What would I have to do to sell it?”

“I mean, we’re young and dumb and in love. We don’t need prenups.” Ransom shrugs. Your eyes narrow. Of course he’d threaten to keep part of what you’ve built to make sure you don’t leave him after all is said and done. “Just make it look like you fell in love with me and have been for this whole time. I’m sure it’ll be easy for you to do.” His tone implies that you’ve been in love with him the whole time. You bristle in response. “Oh, don’t be like that. You wouldn’t have kissed me back if you weren’t still in love with me.”

His eyes glitter in the darkness. You know he said it just to bait you, and it nearly works. Nearly. You bite down hard on your tongue. “So just sell that I could fall in love with you? To make sure people buy us getting married? That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He sounds pleased.

“No catch?”

“No catch. You can’t leave me, but other than that, no catch.”

You’re silent for a long while. You can feel him looking at you, watching you. You let out a long sigh. Why were you considering this? Just so you could stick it to Linda and Richard? Or were you really that greedy, that much like Ransom, that you would give up all you’ve stood for to do this?  
“I fucking hate you.”

“That’s not an answer.” He sounds practically delighted. “Yes or no. That’s all I need to hear.”

“...Yes. I’ll do it.”


End file.
